New Beginnings
by Higgles123
Summary: Saoirse O'Reilly moves to Small Heath with her fiance, and takes a job working for Tommy Shelby. What will happen when a purely professional relationship turns into something more?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone :) Just a quick note to say that this is my first Peaky Blinders fic so please be gentle with me! The chapters aren't super long but I aim to try and update them very regularly. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and I would appreciate any reviews :)**

Saoirse O'Reilly set down her bag and glanced around the poky flat that she now called home. Taking a rubber band out of her coat pocket, she gathered up her long auburn curls and secured them neatly into a bun. She let out a breath and wiped at the sweat beading on her top lip. The flat might have been colder than outside but carting bags and boxes up the stairs had warmed her up.

The heat in her body was the only thing that felt warm about this place. The brown wallpaper was peeling from the top corner and there was a huge patch of damp on one of the walls. She walked towards the small dirty window and took out a handkerchief to wipe it with. The grime was so thick that it didn't do very much but she was at least able to glance out of the window. With a grimace, she couldn't decide if she preferred the dirty window or the rather dire view out of it. It wasn't exactly homely, but she was hopeful that with a bit of care and attention she could make it look somewhat better. Perhaps hopeful was the wrong word to use. Maybe overly optimistic might have been a better choice.

She sighed, trying not to feel a little deflated. She had grown up on the outskirts of Birmingham, and while her neighbourhood had been similar to this, everyone knew that Small Heath was a place of its own. A place that no one wanted to move to. Instead people wanted desperately to leave and never come back.

"I know it's not the Ritz like, but it's only a starting place."

She turned at smiled at her fiancé as he spoke with the thick Scottish burr that she found unbelievably calming. Tall and heavily built, he hadn't worked up even a little bit of a sweat and he had carried a lot more up than she had. She leaned back against his chest as he put an arm around her waist and kissed the side of her head.

He was the reason for her being here. And he was worth it too. She had first met Joe Murray six months ago when he had bumped into her-literally- on her way home from work. He had sent her flying across the pavement and had offered to buy her a cup of tea and a cake in a nearby café as way of apology. Since that day, they had been near enough inseparable. When he had been offered a job at the blacksmith's in Small Heath, she hadn't needed to think twice about coming with him.

"Sure you're not regretting taking this job and giving up the chance to go back to your family in Glasgow?" she asked, turning her neck to peer at him.

"Not at all," he smirked, kissing her soundly on the lips. "I could be sleeping on the streets and I wouldn't care as long as I had you. And besides, they can visit once we're settled somewhere else. My Ma's already desperate to meet her future daughter in law."

"You're the sweetest, do you know that?" she turned and snaked her arms around his neck.

"Aye, I've been told a few times," he chortled, nuzzling his nose against hers. "Now what do you say we make this place our own?"

Saoirse recognised the glint in his dark brown eyes and she grinned.

"Oh yeah, what did you have in mind?" she raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Come with me to the bedroom and I'll show you."

….

Dinner that evening was a simple affair and once they had eaten, Joe scoured the local newspaper while Saoirse washed up the dishes.

"Oh, what about this?" he asked her, holding up the paper. "There's a job going here as a secretary. Says there's a bit of casual housekeeping involved, but you wouldn't mind that, would you?"

"Ooh that sounds interesting," Saoirse said, wiping her hands on a tea towel and stepping towards the table.

Her eyes fell on the advertisement beside Joe's finger. She couldn't help the frown that fell across her face when she read it.

"What's the matter?" Joe wondered aloud.

"You've not lived in Birmingham all that long so maybe you've not heard of the Shelby's but they're famous around here. And not in a good way. They're bad news," Saoirse told him, her lips pursed.

"In what way?"

"The worst way," she answered, taking the cigarette offered to her and inhaling deeply. "They're gangsters."

Joe snorted at the way Saoirse lowered her voice to a whisper and her eyes darted around nervously, as though she was fearful the very people she was talking about could hear through the paper thin walls. "Gangsters, aye? Right. And I guess you're gonna tell me next that Father Christmas lives on the next street?"

"It's not funny, Joe," Saoirse pulled a face at him, silently pleading with him to take her seriously.

"I'm sorry," Joe said, although the amused look on his face made his apology seem far from sincere. "But you have to admit, it's all a little bit far fetched. And anyway if they are gangsters, perhaps you'll piss them off enough that they'll do me a favour and get rid of you."

Saoirse glared at him sullenly, but the corners of her lips lifted as she tried not to smile begrudgingly.

"I'm just kidding you on," Joe grinned, kissing her cheek sloppily. "Seriously though, what have you got to lose just by trying? There's no saying you'd even get the job. You may as well at least ask about it. Besides, I can't imagine there's gonna be many other opportunities like that around here."

He did have a point, Saoirse mused to herself. Small Heath was hardly a hotbed of career opportunities, especially not for a woman. What did she have to lose?

….

_The next day_

Saoirse smoothed down the skirt of her dress with sweating palms and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. She chewed her lip nervously, wondering if she was at the right place. _Of course you're at the right place, you daft mare_, she chided herself internally. _There's great big bloody gold letters that say 'Shelby Ltd'._

Just as she finished arguing with herself, she heard a voice commanding her to enter and with a gulp she pushed open the door.

A man sat behind the desk, his dark hair long on top and shaved at the sides and back. He finished whatever it was he was writing before looking up.

"Can I help you?" he asked, and she was awe struck completely by the sight of the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. Her eyes travelled further down his face to bet with high cheekbones and lips that were almost set into a pout. But it didn't make the man look feminine. Far from it, in fact. There was an air of danger and utter masculinity about him, and she wasn't sure why but she found it to be rather attractive. He looked as though he could kill a man with his bare hands if the mood took him and then turn up at a fancy club and act the epitome of the word gentleman. _Well of course he does. The Shelby's are hardly gonna have a teddy bear of a man working for them, are they? Even the bloody office manager can probably hold his own._ "Miss? I said can I help you?"

"Oh, sorry," she shook her head, bringing herself back the present, a blush tinging her cheeks. "Yes, I, uh, I'm here about the job advertisement in the paper."

"Ok," the man sat back in his chair.

"Um, so I'm here to apply for it," Saoirse stammered nervously.

"I guessed as much," the man eyed her coolly. "Take a seat."

"Pardon?" she frowned.

"I said take a seat," the man repeated, a tinge of impatience in his voice and his nostrils flared ever so slightly. "May as well interview you now seeing as you're here."

"Now?" Saoirse's eyes widened. She hadn't been expecting this. "Now. Yes. Uh, of course."

"What's your name?"

"Uh, Saoirse O'Reilly."

"Irish?"

"My parents were, yeah," she nodded.

"Were?" the man asked.

"They're dead. My Mum died of flu when I was seven and my Dad died of the same thing the following year."

"So you grew up with relatives then?"

"Well no," she squirmed uncomfortably. She hated talking about her childhood. Especially the part about where she went after the death of her parents. People either looked at her with pity or distaste. That was one of the things she had loved about Joe right from the beginning. He had never looked at her like that. "My Dad was Protestant and my mum was Catholic, so as I'm sure you can guess, their families didn't approve. Also my mum was pregnant with me before they got married so that just added to the scandal. Which is why they moved to Birmingham; to start a new life where no one would know them. When my Dad died, the council tried to contact the small number of living relatives I have left in Ireland, but none of them wanted what they deemed a half breed bastard. They didn't care that my parents were actually married by the time I was born, like. Anyway, I'm rambling, sorry. So, after they died I got sent to St Bernadette's orphanage."

"St Bernadette's?" the man raised an eyebrow. "I've heard some things about that place."

"None of them good, I'll bet?"

The man smirked, and Saoirse felt her stomach leap giddily as his eyes twinkled humorously.

"Let's just say I wouldn't ever see any kid go in there if I could help it."

Saoirse blinked and her smile faltered. She wouldn't wish that place on her worst enemy let alone a child. It was cold and dark and a place devoid of any love. If you did the slightest thing wrong, you were punished; usually lashings with a cane. And if you cried during your punishment, you received more lashings. The children never smiled or laughed with one another. Instead they would walk with their heads down, always too fearful of getting caught by one of the Nuns who ruled the place with iron fists and wooden rods. There was a reason why those who had chosen to be married to God didn't have children, and the Nuns at St. Bernadette's were the perfect examples.

During those first few years, she had held onto a false hope that she might one day be saved from what she had considered hell on earth and start a new life with a new family. But those who wanted to adopt cared only for babies and small infants that would never remember their previous lives.

As the hope inside her had dissipated, the strength somehow only grew stronger. She had refused to allow herself to become beaten and downtrodden. Instead she learned how to be the model orphan, and made a promise to herself that when she left she would do everything she could to better herself. Never again would she live feeling like she owed anybody anything. She would live for herself and no one else.

And she had. She left that orphanage on the day of her eighteenth birthday with her head held high and never looked back. Not once. It had been raining furiously that day, and as she walked through the cobbled streets to the halfway house she was to board in, she clutched her little wicker bag to her chest and smiled. The rain had been so pure and cleansing. It was as though it was washing away the remnants of her old life and preparing her for the new one that was about to begin.

"Despite my, shall we say, difficult upbringing, I can assure you it hasn't left its mark on me," she told the man, imploring him with her eyes to believe her. For the most part it was the truth. Any memories, good or bad, from her time in the orphanage were kept locked away in a part of her mind that she refused to ever visit. "And I've done alright for myself considering. I worked from the second I left the orphanage. I didn't care what job, only that it paid the bills and gave me enough money to try and broaden my horizons. I put myself through night school to learn secretarial and accountancy skills, which I passed with flying colours." She told him, pulling out the paper certificates and placing them on the desk for the man to see. "I then worked as an assistant secretary for the doctor's surgery on Grove Lane, where I helped with the accounts from time to time. I only left because my fiancé had to relocate here for work, otherwise I never would have left. You can be assured that I wasn't let go or anything like that. I've even got a glowing reference in here from the doctor. Let me just find it for you."

As the girl rifled through her handbag, Tommy watched her with interest. Her long hair was the same rich colour of the chestnut brood mare he'd owned growing up, and her eyes were as green as emeralds. The light dusting of freckles on her button nose was endearing as well as hugely attractive. There was an aura of innocence about her and he liked that. Because God only knew that not very much in Tommy Shelby's life was innocent.

Her voice was soft and gentle, yet she spoke with a conviction that told of someone who wanted to be taken seriously in life and wouldn't give up easily. She smiled triumphantly when she pulled out the reference she had been looking for and he was momentarily taken aback by the sweet radiance of that smile.

Glancing quickly down at the papers in front of him, Tommy realised he didn't give a stuff about her qualifications or references. He just knew that there was something intriguing about her.

"Well I think I've seen and heard everything I need to," the man cleared his through, passing the documents back across the desk.

Saoirse blinked, realising that he hadn't actually asked her much of anything. Her shoulders sunk and she knew that she would be going home still unemployed.

"Can you start tomorrow?"

"Pardon?" she frowned, unsure that she had heard the man correctly. "You mean I got the job?"

"Well yeah," the man bit his cheek to hide his smile.

"Oh, um thank you so much," Saoirse smiled. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"You already said that. Twice."

"That's because I really mean," she answered, stuffing her papers back into her handbag and closing the clasp. "Just one thing if I may ask?"

The man nodded sharply.

"Do you think Mr Shelby will approve? That's to say, I've heard he's rather selective about who he employs and do you not think you should run it by him before you hire me?"

The man grinned, and Saoirse was awed by the way it transformed his serious face.

"I'm pretty certain Mr Shelby will be fine with you working here. In fact, I know he's fine with it," he answered, his eyes alive with mirth.

And then was when it hit her.

"Oh God," she groaned, covering her face with her hands. "You're Mr Shelby aren't you? God, you must think I'm a right idiot."

"On the contrary," Tommy smirked. "It was rather nice to remain anonymous for a short while."

"Well I'm pretty certain I'm never gonna live this down," she grimaced, and Tommy found himself entranced by the way her pert little nose crinkled.

"We'll keep it between ourselves, don't worry," he promised her, before writing down an address on a piece of paper. "Now tomorrow, there's some paperwork I'd like you to sort out, but I'd prefer that you do it at the house. That way there's no chance of it getting muddled or going missing. I'll expect you there at nine am sharp."

Saoirse nodded and folded the paper before slipping it into her coat pocket. Tommy stood at the same time as her, and shook the hand that was being offered to him. Her hand was so small that his own much larger one engulfed it.

Saoirse swallowed nervously as a frisson of _something_ shot up her arm as their hands touched. With a small smile, she took her hand and headed towards the door.

"Thank you so much again for the opportunity, Mr Shelby," she said before turning and leaving.

"The pleasure's all mine, Miss O'Neill" Tommy mumbled to himself as the door closed behind her. "The pleasure's all mine."

….

That evening when Joe returned home from work, he was surprised to see that the flat was clean from top to bottom, and the grimy window had been washed to within an inch of its life and the last of the sunshine shone through the glass casting a warm glow on the flat.

He found Saoirse in the kitchen, adding the finishing touches to their dinner.

"Hello sweetheart," he chucked his hat down on the side and kissed her cheek. "Something smells good."

Saoirse smiled and held the serving spoon up to his mouth. He blew on the steaming hot broth before swallowing.

"Mm, tastes good too," he grinned. "So you've been busy today, I see."

"That I have," Saoirse nodded, serving up the stew into bowls. "I start my new job tomorrow, so I thought I better get this place ship shape because God knows I won't have time for it otherwise."

"You got the job at Shelby Ltd?" he smiled. "That's wonderful news. I knew you could do it, clever girl. But hang on," he frowned, lowering his voice.

"What about the fact that the big bad Shelby's are gangsters?" he asked, his eyes wide in mock horror.

"Oh shut up," she smacked him on the arm.

In truth, she hadn't even given it a second thought. There was just something about Mr Shelby that made her think she wouldn't have said no even if she had wanted to.

"Well, I think this calls for a wee celebration," Joe announced, pulling a bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard. He poured two shots into two glasses and slid one across the worktop towards her. "To new beginnings."

"To new beginnings," Saoirse echoed, as their glasses clinked together.

As Joe carried the plates over to the table, Saoirse smiled to herself. She had a feeling that life in Small Heath was going to be full of surprises.


	2. Chapter 2

Saoirse came to a stop outside a humble terraced house in the middle of a busy street right in the heart of Small Heath. She frowned and looked down at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. _6 Watery Lane. _This was definitely the place. She didn't know why but she just imagined that the Shelby's would have lived somewhere with a lot more grandeur, judging by the crisp clothing she had seen Mr Shelby wearing the day before. But then she knew better than anyone to never judge a book by its cover.

She knocked on the freshly varnished wooden door and less than thirty seconds later it creaked open.

"You're late," Mr Shelby stood in the doorway, looking her up and down with narrowed eyes.

"I am not," Saoirse answered indignantly before she could stop herself. "Forgive me for being rude, but I'm not late. In fact, I'm early."

She pulled back her coat sleeve and held up her wrist. Tommy noted that she was in fact three minutes early. By her watch anyway. He lifted his pocket watch to her face and she observed that she was actually two minutes late according to the small round object.

"Well I apologise for being late then Mr Shelby," she said.

"I'll let it slide this once, but from now on I suggest you get yourself a watch that tells the time correctly," he muttered.

"Perhaps it's your watch that's wrong?" she raised an eyebrow.

She almost slapped a hand over her mouth, wishing she could take the words back. She smiled apologetically. Perhaps it was the years of keeping silent and doing exactly as she was told, but once she had left the orphanage, she had made a point to always speak her mind and stick up for herself when she knew she was right. Judging by the unamused look on her employer's face, she had better try and restrain herself from now on.

Tommy looked down at Saoirse and bit his lip to keep from smiling at the worried expression on her face. Tommy Shelby didn't smile. Especially not when he was exerting his authority over someone. And if anyone ever dared to answer him back in the way she had, he would have sent them packing with a swift word. Yet for some reason with her, he found it amusing. He liked the fact that she wasn't as afraid of him as everyone else. Or if she was, she didn't show it. But he was still her boss and he needed to make sure she knew her place, just like everyone else did.

"I can't say I like being questioned, Miss O'Reilly," his eyes bore into hers. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood this morning otherwise I'd be finding myself a new assistant."

Saoirse struggled to control the disbelief on her face. If this was him in a good mood, she would hate to see him in a bad mood.

"I can only apologise again," she said sincerely. "I sometimes forget that there's a filter in between my brain and my mouth."

"Best you remember it from now on," he commented, opening the door wider. "In you come then."

Letting out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding, Saoirse stepped through the open doorway. It was narrow and when Mr Shelby didn't move, she had no choice but to brush her body against his to get past. The smell of tobacco and musk invaded her nostrils along with something else. It was fierce and masculine. It was him. She blushed and looked down when she felt the hard angles of his body against her much softer ones, and hurried past as quickly as possible.

Mr Shelby led her into the parlour which was rather dark and furnished with a mahogany table and a matching sideboard. The sideboard piqued her interest immediately and she found her eyes drawn to the array of patterned tea cups and china. It looked so pretty and so out of place in a house belonging to a man such as Mr Shelby. Perhaps they belonged to his wife?

"Is this her?" a woman turned from the fireplace. Eyes as dark as a raven fell upon Saoirse and she felt a shiver run down her spine. There was something about this woman that made her feel as though she could see right into her soul. It was unnerving.

"This is her," Thomas nodded, turning to Saoirse. "This is my Aunt Polly. Any questions you have about anything to do with this house, you go to her."

"Pleased to meet you," Saoirse smiled, holding out her hand. "I'm Saoirse O'Reilly."

But Aunt Polly ignored the outstretched hand and instead reached up to finger at Saoirse's auburn curls. Her hair was so long that it almost reached the bottom of her back and it cascaded over her shoulders like dark flames. It most certainly wasn't in keeping with the shorter hair that most young women favoured these days, but it framed her heart shaped face beautifully.

"I'd wager that with hair like that there's some gypsy in you," she spoke. Her voice and the look in her eyes was hypnotic, and Saoirse found that she couldn't look away.

"I don't think so," Saoirse mumbled quietly.

"Pol's never wrong about these things," Tommy spoke, lighting up a cigarette and shaking the match to extinguish it.

And just like that the spell was broken. Polly dropped her hand and fixed Saoirse with a warm smile. Perhaps if she had known the older woman better, she would have been surprised to have received such a warm greeting. Polly Gray was not someone who took to people easily. Instead, they were forced to earn her praise and loyalty over time. Apparently she had made an exception for their new employee.

"The others are in the den," Polly turned to Tommy. "Shall I take her there or bring the paperwork in here?"

"Better that she does it in there," Tommy answered. "I'll follow you through now. I want to be there to stop any remarks from my idiotic brothers."

Polly smirked knowingly. When faced with a beautiful young woman, or in fact any woman with a pulse, John and Arthur Shelby seemed to consider themselves God's gift and the things that came out of their mouths often were somewhat lewd. And the last thing they wanted was for John and Arthur to frighten away their new assistant. Then again, to work for the Shelby's, a person had to be able to hold their own. Which is exactly what Polly knew Saoirse was able to do. One look into the girl's eyes had told Polly everything she needed to know about her. There was kindness mixed with someone strong of both heart and personal morals. There was someone who didn't judge but instead focused on her own path and not that of others. But there was one thing about the girl that set Polly on edge slightly. The intense vulnerability that was hidden inside. That vulnerability could very well be the girl's downfall one day.

"Are you coming, Pol?" Tommy asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Yes, sorry I was away with the fairies then," Polly smiled, although it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Tommy recognised the look in his Aunt's eye and he would ask her about it later. But for now, there was work to be done.

Still wearing her coat, Saoirse followed them through a door at the back of the parlour and into the den, where two men were stood smoking. Their expensive three piece suits were almost identical to that of Mr Shelby's, aside from colour. She gathered they must have been business associates or perhaps the other Shelby brothers?

"Who's this then Tommy boy?" a tall, lanky man with a moustache and a gruff voice was the first to notice them. He beamed widely and pushed his slick brown hair back from his face. "She's a fine looking thing, much prettier than that Lizzie fucking Stark, but it aint my birthday for another three months."

"Well if you don't want her, I'm happy to take her off your hands," a slightly younger man piped up, eyeing Saoirse up and down lazily as he wriggled a toothpick in between his teeth.

"Nobody's having her," Tommy informed them curtly. "She's not here for your amusement, she's here to do work. This is my new assistant, Miss O'Reilly."

"Secretary, eh?" Arthur wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Does she attend to your personal needs as well as your professional ones?"

The one named Arthur and the other gentleman chortled like two naughty school boys and were not expecting the clip round the ear from their aunt, who eyed them with fierce disapproval.

"That's enough of that, you two," she admonished them. "I brought you up to have more manners than that."

"Sorry," they mumbled like two sullen children.

"I'm Arthur Shelby, pleased to make your acquaintance madame," he bowed with mock flourish, his eyes having regained their previous merriment.

"And I'm John," the younger one nudged his older brother out of the way. Seemingly not to be outdone, John grabbed hold of Saoirse's hand and kissed it dramatically.

"That's enough you two," Tommy glared at them. "Leave her alone."

"Yes, leave the poor girl alone before you frighten her off like you do everyone else," a young girl swanned elegantly into the room. She was tall and slender with brown hair styled into a neat bob and a sweet smile plastered upon her face. "I'm Ada Shelby. Unfortunately for me, these buffoons are my brothers."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Saoirse."

"And this little terror is Finn," she placed her hands upon the shoulders of the young boy who appeared in between them all. "He's the baby of the family and out of all the boys, he's the one who'll give you no trouble."

Saoirse smiled at them all. It was easy to sense how close knit they were as a family and for someone with no family herself, it was a delightful sight yet it made her long for something similar.

"So you're working for us now, are you?" Ada asked.

"No, she's working for me," Tommy corrected her. "Now haven't you all got places to go or things to be doing?"

"Not really," Ada shrugged, leaning against one of the tables and folding her arms. "I could make myself busy if I had a few pounds though."

As Arthur, John and Polly dispersed to head about their day, Tommy looked at his sister and the mischievous glint in her eye.

"What happened to the few pounds you managed to wangle out of me last week?" he took a drag of his cigarette and when he exhaled, his face almost disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

"What can I say? It's not cheap looking this good you know," she grinned.

"Ada, the amount of money-_my money_\- you spend on clothes is ridiculous and it's a surprise I'm not bankrupt," he told her.

"Well fine," she pouted. "If you want me to parade around like a tramp then don't worry about it."

"I pity the poor fellow who ends up married to you."

"Hah," Ada snorted. "If you lot have your way, I'll be old and grey before I'm allowed to even court a bloke let alone marry one."

"What do you think, Miss O'Reilly?" Tommy turned to Saoirse, who lifted her eyebrows in surprise at being dragged into the conversation. "Do you think it's necessary for my sister to be spending all my hard earned money on whatever she pleases."

"Oh, I'm not really sure that's any of my business," Saoirse replied, not really wanting to get caught in the middle of a family spat.

"See, she agrees," Tommy looked pointedly at his sister, stubbing out his cigarette before immediately lighting another.

"That's not what she said," Ada raised an eyebrow at him. "Now stop being such a cheap skate and cough up the cash, or I'll be forced to go and sell myself on the corner just to buy a new dress."

With a sigh and an exasperated shake of his head, Tommy pulled some notes out of his pocket and Saoirse's eyes widened. Never before had she seen such an amount of money belong to one person. Yet Ada didn't even bat an eyelid. Tommy handed his sister three notes and she kissed his cheek and grinned triumphantly.

"Oh and Saoirse," she said once she reached the door. "You and I will go down to the Garrison for drinks one night soon. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to who my brothers won't try and scare away."

She disappeared before Saoirse could even ask where or what the Garrison was.

"Shall we get to work then, Miss O'Reilly?" Tommy spoke, ushering her towards an office across the other side of the room.

This office was smaller than the one she had visited the previous day, and nowhere near as nicely furnished. She unbuttoned her brown coat and didn't see the intense azure eyes that noted the soft curves of her body underneath the navy dress she wore. She hung her coat and bag up on the stand in the corner of the office, and then waited for her orders.

"Take a seat there, Miss O'Reilly," Tommy motioned to the desk. "Shall we begin?"

….

Saoirse rolled her head from side to side, sighing with relief when she felt the knots in her neck crack. Her head was spinning and her eyes were sore from staring at numbers all day. She hadn't known much about gambling before stepping into the Shelby abode this morning, but now she felt like an expert. And it seemed that so were the Shelby's. They were absolutely raking in the cash and she was unable to hide her surprise at just how much money they were making on a weekly basis. But she wasn't naïve enough to think that this was the only pie they had their fingers in.

"Are you done then?" Tommy appeared in the doorway, an ever present cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

"I think so," she smiled, stacking the papers neatly and then holding the thick pile out to him. "Do you want to see them?"

"Later," he said, and Saoirse placed the papers down gently on the desk.

Tommy had popped in and out of the den all day, and each time he had peered through the thin glass, she had been hunched over the desk, her brow furrowed and her pencil scribbling away furiously. According to Polly, she hadn't even stopped for lunch. He would cast an eye over her work later, but if first impressions were anything to go by he was pleased.

"Tomorrow, I'd like you to come back here and help with a few things around the house. That's not a problem, is it?" he asked.

Saoirse shook her head. The advert in the paper had after all made mention of some housekeeping, and in all honesty her brain might be glad of the mundane tasks for a day.

"I'm going out of town for the day but Polly and Ada will be here to let you in," he said, as she pulled on her coat.

"That's fine," she smiled, taking her bag off the hook and clutching it in front of her.

They walked in silence through the house and to the front door. Saoirse was aware of just how close he stood to her and once again she could smell his unique scent. It was unlike that of any other man she had smelt. Not that she was in the habit of going round and sniffing men mind.

"Thank you for today, Miss O'Reilly," he murmured. "I'll tell Polly to expect you promptly at nine. And she'll tell me if you're even a second late."

"I expect she will," Saoirse couldn't help but smile. "Oh and Mr Shelby? Would it be too inappropriate if I asked you to call me Saoirse? Miss O'Reilly makes me sound like some matronly old school ma'am, and I can't say I like it very much."

"If you wish," he nodded, but for some reason he couldn't explain the feeling that came over him at the thought of being able to say her name. "But just so we're clear I still expect you to call me Mr Shelby."

"Understood," she nodded, but she swore she could see a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

And in that moment, she decided that there was more to Tommy Shelby than what one could see on the surface.

….

When Saoirse got home, she kicked off her shoes and fell onto the sofa with a groan. Joe wasn't yet home and she knew she had better get dinner ready. But her eyes shut of their own volition and she was asleep before she knew it.

It was dark by the time she woke up, and she smiled as she felt someone rubbing at her stockinged feet.

"When did you get back?" she opened her eyes.

"About ten minutes ago," Joe grinned. "Long day, love?"

"Something like that," she answered, lifting her feet from his lap and sitting up. "But shouldn't it be me rubbing your feet? You're the one who's been stood up all day."

"Ach, don't worry about that," Joe kissed her nose. "But you can rub something else if you like?"

"Is that all you think about?" Saoirse tutted, slapping his arm playfully.

"What can I say? I'm a red blooded male and there's a beautiful young woman sat beside me."

With a breathy chuckle, Saoirse allowed him to lay her down on the sofa. As his bearded face tickled hers and his hands caressed her through her dress, his scent enveloped her and she gave in to the needs of her body. Perhaps if she hadn't been so overcome by her sudden desire, she might have noticed that the woody scent of the man above her didn't affect her in the way the scent of Tommy Shelby had. It didn't even come close.


	3. Chapter 3

"Wakey, wakey, sleepy head," Saoirse kissed Joe's head as he snored softly. "It's time to get up or else you're gonna be late for work."

"Fucks sakes," Joe muttered under his breath, cracking a bleary brown eye open. "How are you always so fucking perky first thing in the morning?"

"You can thank the nuns at St. Bernadette's for that one," Saoirse smirked. "Seven o'clock is basically a lie in when you've spent years getting up at five. Now come on, up you get. There's tea and toast waiting on the table for you. It'll be cold if you don't hurry and then you really will have something to whinge about then."

"Slave driver," Joe murmured, pulling her on top of him. His hands roamed under the thin material of her night gown and he grinned. "I can think of something else I'd rather have for breakfast."

"Did you not get enough last night?"

"I don't think I'll ever get enough," Joe smirked, grabbing hold of her bottom and squeezing. "That's prime meat right there."

"Get off, you bloody oaf," she chuckled. "I'm not a piece of bloody beef. But I tell you what? I'll make you a deal. You get up for work and get ready like a good boy and I might just reward you for it tonight."

"How exactly?" his walnut coloured eyes followed hers as she opened the wardrobe and pulled out a dark green dress.

"You'll have to wait and see, won't you?" she smirked, pulling underwear out of the drawer beside the wardrobe.

With a groan, Joe swung his feet out of bed and rubbed his face wearily.

"You're gonna be the death of me woman."

…...

"You're right on time," the door swung open before Saoirse could even knock upon it. Polly eyed her with a smug grin and twinkling eyes. "That's five pounds Tommy owes me now."

"He bet you I'd be late?" Saoirse asked as the older woman beckoned her inside. She slipped off her coat and hat, hanging them in the hallway before stepping into the parlour. Immediately the heat from the fire hit her and she could feel her appendages begin to thaw. It was only mid- October, yet winter was already fast approaching, bringing with it a biting chill in the air.

"Well, I bet him five pounds that you wouldn't be," Polly answered. "And he didn't refuse the bet which I took to mean he was on board with it."

"When have you ever known Tommy to turn down a bet?" Ada appeared, yawning. She was still in her dressing gown and her hair was sticking up wildly.

"And what bloody time did you get in last night?" Polly turned to her niece, arms folded and her eyebrows raised.

"Just after ten," Ada answered sweetly, sitting down at the table and pouring herself a cup of tea.

"Did you see that Saoirse?" Polly asked her.

"See what?" Saoirse frowned.

"That great big bloody flying pig that went past the window then," Polly eyed Ada. "Ten o'clock my backside, Ada Shelby. Best you watch what you're doing and whoever you're doing it with."

"Who says I'm doing anything with anyone?" Ada asked indignantly.

"Because I was young and stupid myself once," Polly told her. "And unlike you, I didn't have your brothers to deal with. I was sat up still at eleven last night when your brothers got home from the Garrison and I told them you were asleep in bed. But it was almost two before I heard you sneaking in the back door."

"Well if you knew what time I got in, why did you ask?"

"To see if you'd lie or tell the truth," Polly answered. "And your lie only confirmed my suspicion, which is that you're up to no good."

"Pol, I love you but it's really none of your business," Ada said.

"Everything in this family is my business," she said, a warning tone to her voice. "And more than that, your brothers make everything their business too. Tread carefully, Ada. If you play with matches, it's only a matter of time before you get burnt."

Saoirse stared at her hands intently, trying to pretend she couldn't hear the uncomfortable conversation taking place before her. She felt like an intruder, listening to such a personal matter but neither Ada nor Polly seemed to notice or care.

"Does your family interfere in your life like this, Saoirse?" Ada enquired, casting Polly a glare.

Saoirse looked up and met Ada's expectant eyes.

"Uh no," Saoirse shook her head.

"Lucky you," Ada grumbled. "How many siblings do you have?"

"None," Saoirse answered quickly. She didn't want to appear rude, but she found it hard talking about her lack of family without a lump appearing in her throat.

"What I'd give to be an only child," Ada sighed longingly, smearing jam on the cold toast left out for her. "Your parents must spoil you rotten then?"

"Not exactly," Saoirse whispered. "They're, uh, both dead actually."

Ada almost choked on the food in her mouth but managed to regain her composure and swallow it down before offering Saoirse an apologetic smile.

"I didn't know," she said.

"How could you?" Saoirse shrugged.

"Would you mind if I asked how old you were when they…you know…?" Ada asked sincerely curious and saddened for the girl at the same time.

"I was seven," Saoirse answered. "Well, it was two days after my seventh birthday when my mum died from flu. And then it was just a few weeks before my next birthday when my Dad passed too. No other family wanted me so I lived in St Bernadette's orphanage until I was old enough to leave."

"Oh, you poor child," Polly reached out and took her hand, sandwiching it in between her own and squeezing soothingly. "You know, Ada and the boys' mother died only a year after Finn was born and my good for nothing brother ran out on them leaving them alone. I stepped up just as any decent relative would, but even without me, they still had each other."

"I can't imagine losing your whole family like that," Ada sighed. "That must have been awful for you. My brothers drive me up the wall but I couldn't imagine having coped without them. I couldn't imagine having been all alone."

"And in that God awful place," Polly shook her head and crossed herself. "I wouldn't put my worst enemy in there, let alone a child."

"Mr Shelby said much of the same thing," Saoirse smiled. "But I got through it and I hope I'm making my parents proud by trying to make something of myself. I didn't want to disappear into the workhouse, never to be seen again like so many others."

"They're proud of you, I'm certain," Polly smiled knowing, giving her hand a final squeeze.

"So you moved to Small Heath for what reason exactly?" Ada frowned. "It's not exactly fine living, is it?"

"Well I have to be truthful and say that I wouldn't have chosen to move here out of choice," she answered. "Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm too good for the place or anything like that. It's just that I was happy and settled where I was, and I was happy in my job. But my fiancé, Joe, got a new job at the blacksmiths down on Quay Street, and when he asked me to come with him, I decided that he was worth the move."

"You're engaged?" Ada's face lit up excitedly. "Let me see the ring."

"We haven't quite got around to buying one yet," Saoirse was embarrassed to admit. "Joe wants to save up and buy something special. In all honesty, I'd be happy with something cheap but he says it's his decision as he's the one buying it."

"That's so romantic," Ada smiled wistfully. "How did you meet?"

Saoirse smiled remembering the moment six months, three weeks and four days ago.

_She had just left the surgery for the evening. She was searching for her keys in her bag, and wasn't really watching where she was going when she suddenly fell to the floor and the contents of her bag went sprawling across the street. _

"_Ach, I'm so sorry," a strong Scottish burr spoke. "Are you alright?"_

_She looked up ready to berate the idiotic individual when her breath caught in her throat. Concerned eyes met her own and any annoyance she felt dissipated. _

"_I'm ok," she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was my fault. I wasn't really watching where I was going."_

"_Well I'm sorry anyway," the man smiled. "Here let me help you pick up your things."_

_He quickly gathered up her belongings and plonked them into her bag before handing it back to her. _

"_Thank you," Saoirse answered, almost breathlessly as his hand brushed slightly against her own._

_Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest that she was certain he must have been able to hear it. The whole of Birmingham surely could. _

"_I'm Joe," he held out a hand. "Joe Murray."_

"_Saoirse O'Reilly," she shook his head, blushing at the intense feelings coursing through her body. "So do you often find yourself in the habit of knocking over poor defenceless women?"_

"_Only the beautiful ones," he grinned._

_Saoirse looked down at her black pumps, enjoying his flattery. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. _

"_Perhaps I could buy you a cup of tea in that café over there by way of apology?" he asked._

"_I'm not sure," Saoirse shrugged. She wanted to. But she didn't know him and it was rather inappropriate for a young woman to be going off alone with a man she didn't know. But then again, the café would be full of other patrons so they wouldn't actually be alone._

"_It's just one cup of tea and nothing more," Joe spoke as if he could hear the argument she was having with herself in her head. "And if afterwards we go our separate ways and you don't wish to see me again, then so be it."_

_One cup of tea turned into another, and then another until it grew dark and the proprietor kindly asked them to leave. Joe walked her back to her lodgings but not before kissing her sweetly. And in that moment, Saoirse knew that she needed to see him again. Everyday. For the rest of her life. _

"And what made you give up your job to come here?" Polly asked. "Could you not have just travelled each day there and back?"

"I suppose so," Saoirse nodded. "But it's right on the outskirts of the city and it would have taken three buses each way. And well, you know how unreliable Birmingham transport is."

"So where are you living?" Ada questioned.

"Up on Baker Street," Saoirse replied, and judging by the look they gave one another she could tell they knew of the place. "I know it's not ideal, but it's cheap and it's only to put us on until we find something better."

"Of course dear," Polly smiled.

"And the two of you live there alone?" Ada hadn't finished with her enquiries.

"Yes," Saoirse almost grimaced uncomfortably. "I know it's not really the done thing seeing as we're not married and all, but it just made sense."

"You don't have to explain yourself to us, love, or anyone else," Polly reassured her. "We don't think any less of you for it. There are far worse sinners in the world."

"So how did you-"

"-Ada, that's enough questions," Polly clapped her hands together. "At this rate none of us are going to get any work done."

"Fine," Ada sighed, before looking to Saoirse. "But when I take you for that drink I'll be sure to think up some more questions and there'll be no aunt Polly to save you then."

"I'll survive I think. Especially if you ply me with a few drinks first," Saoirse chuckled.

"It's a date then," Ada smiled. She really liked Saoirse, judging from first impressions, and it would be nice to have a girl of her own age to be friends with and share things with. The only real female she had in her life was her aunt, and there were many secrets in Ada's life that she didn't want her share with her.

"Well that's so lovely that you two have hit it off," Polly smiled sarcastically, putting her hands on her hips. "But if you don't go up those stairs and get dressed Ada Shelby, there will be no drinks in the pub for you ever again. Because I'll have you dead and buried under the floorboards before anyone even realises you've gone."

"Alright," Ada sulked. "I'm going."

As Ada thudded moodily up the staircase, muttering to herself, Polly turned to Saoirse with a smirk.

"Let's start in here, shall we?"

….

Saoirse was up a foot ladder cleaning the kitchen window when she heard the front door open and close. Polly walked in, rubbing her hands together as she tried to warm them up, and dropped her basket on the side.

"Is Ada back yet?" she asked.

Ada had disappeared shortly before lunch to visit a friend and she was supposed to have been back by three in time for Polly to run an errand or two. When she hadn't come back, Polly had been forced to leave Saoirse alone in the house against her better judgement. It wasn't that she didn't trust the girl. It was just that there was a lot of things in the house that were for eyes of the family only, and until they knew Saoirse better it wasn't wise that she saw any of those things. In the end, Polly had kindly but firmly instructed Saoirse to stay only in the kitchen until she got back.

"No," Saoirse shook her head, wiping her hands on the rag in her hands and stepping down from the wooden ladder.

"That bloody girl," Polly muttered under breath. "Oh well, that's her loss I suppose. I think you've worked hard enough for one day so I got us a little something to enjoy from the bakery."

Saoirse glanced at the clock on the parlour mantelpiece as she stepped in there, and was pleasantly surprised to see that there were only twenty more minutes of the working day left. Polly pulled two iced buns out of her basket with a grin.

"Why don't you sit down and I'll boil some tea?"

When Tommy, John and Arthur arrived home minutes later it was to see the two women sat at the table, eating their buns and laughing.

"Well isn't this cosy?" Arthur commented, pulling out a chair and almost throwing himself onto it with a tired sigh. A strand of his hair flopped onto his forehead and he pushed it away before pulling a tin of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"Get off," Polly swatted John's hand away as he took the other spare seat and went for the last remaining ice bun in the basket.

"How come you both get one and not me?" John scowled, shrugging off his coat and flinging it carelessly over the back of his chair.

"Because we've been working hard today, that's why," Polly told him. "This one especially," she smiled warmly at Saoirse, her eyes crinkling in the corners. "Thought she deserved a little treat."

What Polly didn't say was that throughout the morning and the rest of the day, she hadn't been able to get the image of a young red haired girl living out her youth in that monstrosity of a place. It had played on her mind all day. How was it that not one member of her family had offered to take her? What kind of human being could do that to a child? She had thought of her own children; so young when they were taken from her. She had gone to church and prayed with every fibre of her being that her children hadn't lived through a similar ordeal. She prayed that by the grace of the Lord they had lived their lives with families who loved and cared for them. Not that anyone could ever love them as much as she had. As much as she still did.

"A treat?" Tommy muttered, taking a drag on his cigarette. "What do you think she gets paid for, Pol?"

"Tommy," Polly frowned at him.

"What?" he scowled. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise we were in the habit of treating our employees like they were part of the family."

"Well to be fair, Tom, most of us are family," Arthur murmured.

"I was just trying to do something nice," Polly said, glancing from Tommy to Saoirse and back again.

"Good for you, Pol," Tommy said. "There's a kid on the corner by the paper stand. Maybe you could pay him to sweep the chimney and buy him a cake when he's done? You know, just as a treat?"

Saoirse could feel heat rising up her neck and into her cheeks. Mr Shelby was right and she was embarrassed at having made such a terrible impression on this, her second day.

"I should go," she stood up, her chair scraping loudly on the floor as she pushed it back.

"There's seven minutes left of the day yet, Miss O'Reilly."

Saoirse stopped and swallowed, feeling tears bubbling in her throat. _Do not cry. Don't you dare cry._

Tommy wasn't sorry that he had set the girl on edge. His business dealings that day had been dire and he was in a foul mood. He didn't care that he was taking that foul mood out on his new employee.

"There's nothing left for her to do," Polly said curtly. "She's done everything."

"Then why is she still sitting in my parlour?"

"Sorry Mr Shelby," Saoirse apologised. "I'll be going now."

"Don't be silly," Polly told her, glaring at Tommy who just eyed her lazily. "Stay and finish your tea."

"Oh no honestly," Saoirse shook her head. "I should get back and cook dinner anyway."

Hurriedly she pulled on her coat and with a small smile bid the Shelby's a good evening.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Polly glared at Thomas, who stood unflinching under his aunt's thunderous gaze.

"What's the matter with _you_, Pol?" Tommy asked. "Behaving like she's an honoured guest and not someone we pay to work for us."

"It was a drink and a bloody iced bun," Polly growled. "And after the shitty life she's had, I didn't think a few minutes of kindness would go amiss."

Tommy clenched his jaw and his icy façade wavered ever so slightly as Polly's words hit him like a thump in the chest.

"So you know then? About her growing up in St Bernadette's?" Polly asked him.

"I know," Tommy nodded lazily.

"St Bernadette's?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Poor bloody girl."

"Be that as it may, this is a business," Tommy stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. "Not a place to take in waifs and strays and try to fix them."

"You're a hard faced bastard, Thomas Shelby," Polly gritted her teeth. "Or have you forgotten that you, all of you, were once in her position? If it hadn't been for me you would have been somewhere just as bad. You might be moving up in the world, Tommy, but don't forget where it is you came from. You can just as easy fall back down there."

Polly stormed off upstairs just as Ada walked in, sensing the friction in the room.

"What's going on here then?" she asked, unravelling the woollen scarf from around her neck.

"Just Tommy being a dickhead as usual," John chortled. "Me and Arthur are going down the Garrison, Ada. You coming?"

"Why not?" she grinned, wrapping the scarf back around herself again. "Not like I've got anything better to do. You coming, Tommy?"

"Later," he murmured, sitting down on the chair that Saoirse had been sat on only moments before. It was still warm.

The door slammed as the others left and with a sigh, Tommy lit up a cigarette. As he inhaled, his gaze fell upon the half eaten bun. Beside it was a small black glove. It was small and dainty, and there was a tiny hole on the middle finger.

Guilt was not a feeling that Tommy was accustomed to feeling. It was an emotion that he preferred to ignore. In his line of work, there wasn't a need for morals. In fact they were the thing that could very well cripple a man in his position. But as he took the glove in his hand, he began to feel the guilt gnaw away at him.

"Fucks sakes," he muttered, standing up. He wrapped the bun up in a napkin before grabbing it and the glove and heading out onto the cold street.

He had barely made it more than a few streets away, when he saw her heading in his direction. She wasn't easy to miss. Not with her flaming red hair that brought vivid colour to the dull grey of the houses around them. She saw him and he saw her body stiffen.

"You forgot this," he held her glove out to her, his voice gruff.

"I was just coming back to get it," Saoirse told him, taking it from his hand. "Thank you. I hope you didn't go out of your way to bring it to me?"

"No," he shook his head. "I was just on my way to the Garrison anyway."

She nodded, trying to determine his expression, but it was difficult. His cap lay on his head in such a way that she could only catch a mere glimpse of his eyes.

"Well, thank you again," she gave him a small smile. "I'll see you in the morning. Polly said I should come back to the house again. Something about it being race day?"

"That's right," he answered, his eyes looking her up and down.

"Good evening then, Mr Shelby," she said, with a small nod.

"Oh and Saoirse?" Tommy called out to her. She turned her head and looked at him questioningly. "You forgot this as well."

He threw a small napkin wrapped package into the air which she caught easily. He was gone before she could open it, and when she saw what it was her face broke out into a wide smile.

One which stayed with her all the way home.

….

"What are you so happy about?" Joe looked up from his newspaper when she walked into the flat.

"Oh nothing," she shrugged. "I just had a good day."

"I'm glad one of us did," he said.

"Well why don't you put your feet up while I make us some dinner? And then you can tell me all about?" she said, slipping off her coat.

"I'm not really hungry," he shook his head. He set down the paper and stood up. "I think I'm gonna go out for a bit. Some of the blokes from work have gone to the pub and asked me to join them."

"But you've just got in," Saoirse frowned. "We've not even eaten yet."

"I just said I'm not hungry," he told her. "I'll make something later."

"Well why don't you just wait until after dinner and then go?" she suggested.

"Don't tell me when I can go out," Joe growled at her, marching over so that his face was in hers.

"Joe, I wasn't," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "I just thought-"

"-I don't care what you thought," he spat, his eyes boring angrily into hers. "I'm a grown man and I'll do as I please."

And with that he stormed out of the house, leaving Saoirse both confused and upset. She had never seen that side of Joe before in the entire six months she had known him. It was completely out of character. And what's more, she didn't understand where the anger had come from. She hadn't meant to make him think that she was telling him what to do.

Her stomach rumbled, but she was too upset to consider eating anything. She just wanted to crawl in bed and wait for Joe to get back. Hopefully he would have calmed down and she would be able to make it up to him. She would let him know that she was sorry for upsetting him.

He was everything to her and she would make sure that he knew it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everyone has commented/favourited/followed. It's really appreciated. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. I won't lie, I've really struggled with it. But I tried my best!**

The working day had been absolutely manic. Saoirse didn't know how so many people had managed to fit in the den at one time. They had been packed in like sardines, eager to throw away their hard earned money on thrill and fate. There had been queues out of the door all day and Saoirse was certain that if she never saw another betting slip again in her life it would be too soon. They were going to haunt her forever.

"Is it always like this?" she asked Arthur as they counted up the takings together. The noisy hum had thankfully long since dissipated leaving a relaxed quiet in its wake.

"On race days, yes," he nodded, gathering a pile of notes and stacking them neatly before beginning on the next pile. "But even on a normal day, it can get fairly busy in here."

"I don't know how you manage it," she said, letting out an exhausted sigh.

"It gets easier with practice," Arthur smiled warmly. "Also helps that I'm not in here all the time. I'm just helping out today cos Ada had to go out. Usually I get frustrated and knock something or someone over."

Saoirse chuckled at Arthur's honesty, and she could well imagine the scene. Arthur Shelby was a formidable man. The height, the hair, the gruff voice. She had no doubt he could kill a man with his bare hands and barely work up a sweat, but there was more to him than met the eye. There was a softness and almost a vulnerability in his dark eyes. He was also very humorous which she had discovered after being on the receiving end of far too many of his jokes throughout the past hours.

"You did well today," he told her. "I've seen people crumble many a time, but you kept yourself together. You should be proud of yourself."

Saoirse smiled sincerely at Arthur's sweet words. She knew he was just being kind, because she had in truth messed up a few times throughout the day when it had all gotten a little overwhelming. But Arthur had been patient and kind with her even when she hadn't been with herself.

"Thank you Arthur. It's really kind of you to say," she said. "Hopefully next time I'll be a little more prepared for it."

"Hey don't knock yourself," Arthur patted her on the hand. "The first time Ada worked in here on race day she got so angry with one of the punters that she flipped over a table and smacked the poor bloke in the mouth."

Saoirse snorted thinking of sweet Ada turning into a crazed madwoman. She wasn't a Shelby for nothing.

"Now, I'm gonna go and give the takings to Polly so she can put them in the safe," Arthur stood up. "If you go in that back office, you'll see a metal filing cabinet. Just file the betting slips away in there and then you can go home."

….

Saoirse finished filing the slips away but when she went to close the top drawer, it slid back open and hit her in the chest. Frowning, she tried again but it did the same thing. The third time she tried, it wouldn't close past half way. It was stuck but she couldn't see how for the love of God nor money.

"Oh for Gods sakes," she muttered under her breath, lifting her knee up underneath the draw as she wriggled it, hoping it might budge. "Just bloody get in will you."

"There's a knack to that one," a voice murmured from behind her, causing her to jump and trap her finger in the drawer.

"Jesus fucking Mary and bastard Joseph," she gasped, yanking her finger out of the drawer and cradling it against her chest. She spun around and grimaced when she saw Mr Shelby leaning against the doorframe, smoking a cigarette languidly. A hint of a smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

"That's some very colourful language to come from a lady such as yourself," he noted.

"I trapped my finger in the filing cabinet," she offered by way of explanation.

"So I noticed," he smirked openly now, walking over to her. "And now you're bleeding all over your dress."

Saoirse looked down and saw that he was indeed right. But before she could do anything about it, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around her finger.

"I'm not usually so clumsy," she muttered, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She told herself that it was because she was embarrassed and not because he was so close that she could feel his warm, smoky breath on her cheek.

"I'm sure there are many people who've had their fingers chewed off by rabid filing cabinets," his eyes flashed up and met hers, his cigarette dangling precariously from the corner of his mouth. Saoirse grinned at his teasing, fully aware that he was still holding onto the handkerchief and pressing it onto her finger.

"The question is, have they lived to tell the tale?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Guess we'll have to wait and see, won't we?" he replied, widening his eyes ominously. "Arthur tells me you did well today. I'm glad to hear it."

"It was… interesting."

"That's one word for it," Mr Shelby tilted his head in agreement. "But it's not scared you off then?"

"Nah," Saoirse shook her head. "It takes a lot more than that to scare me away, Mr Shelby."

Tommy allowed his eyes to wander over her face now that they were so close to one another. Her porcelain skin was free from any blemishes and the freckles on her nose were begging to be kissed. His gaze flicked down to her full lips and he almost licked his own subconsciously. Shaking his head to rid himself of the very inappropriate thoughts he was having about his assistant, he set about inspecting Saoirse's finger.

"There you go," he said, clearing his throat. "All better."

"Thank you," she said quietly, feeling unnerved by the way he was still watching her. "Well, I guess I should get going. That's if you don't need me for anything?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Can I have my finger back then please?"

"Oh," Tommy dropped her finger like it had burnt him.

Saoirse tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled nervously. "Good evening, Mr Shelby," she said. "I'll see you on Monday."

Tommy nodded extinguishing his cigarette in the glass ashtray on the table. "We've got a few meetings on Monday that I'll need you to take notes for, so I'll need you at the other office."

Before Saoirse could reply, Ada came bursting through the door.

"Oh I'm glad I caught you before you left," she panted, trying to catch her breath. Her face was red and she had obviously been running. "I wondered if you wanted to come for a few drinks? I told you I wanted to have a chance for a proper talk, and it's Friday which means there's no work tomorrow and no reason to go to bed early."

"That's really nice of you, but I don't think I should," Saoirse answered, hoping she didn't sound too rude. "Joe will be wanting his dinner."

"So come after dinner then," Ada wasn't taking no for an answer. "Heck, bring Joe with you. I'd be rather interested to meet the man who you would gladly move to Small Heath for."

"I don't know," Saoirse pulled a face, and for some reason found herself looking to Mr Shelby for help. Or was it for his opinion? But he just looked at them both impassively, doing little to help Saoirse's decision.

Despite his indifferent demeanour, Tommy was rather interested himself to meet the man who had persuaded his young secretary to move to Small Heath. Well, he told himself he was interested, but the emotion that was actually coursing through his veins was closer to jealousy than anything else. He frowned. What did he have to be jealous about? He'd known the girl for a few days and he had known from their first meeting that she was taken. And if he was being honest, he wasn't short of women fawning over him. He could have a different woman every night of the week if he wanted. But maybe that was the problem. He couldn't have her and it bothered him. Thomas Shelby wasn't a man accustomed to not getting what he wanted.

"Tell her Tommy," Ada dragged him into the conversation, distracting him from his thoughts. She tugged on Tommy's sleeve like a petulant child trying to get their own way.

"She's a grown up, Ada," Tommy lit another cigarette. "I can't tell her what to do."

"Well technically you can," Ada crossed her arms and pouted. "Just tell her she has to come."

"Ada," Tommy glowered, but one look at his sister's face and he crumbled. Ada was one of the few people in the world who he would move mountains for. He sighed and looked to Saoirse. "Would you please come to the Garrison tonight at eight o'clock, either alone or with Joe-"

"-With Joe," Ada butted in quickly before giving Tommy a sickly sweet smile.

"With Joe," Tommy repeated, rolling his eyes. "If for no other reason than to stop Ada nagging at me for the rest of my miserable life."

"I suppose I could come out for a few drinks," Saoirse agreed reluctantly. She was sure Joe wouldn't mind anyway.

"Yay," Ada squeaked, grabbing Saoirse's arm excitedly. "Ok, well I'll see you later on then."

"Sorry about that," Tommy apologised as Saoirse grabbed her coat and bag. "She likes to get her own way my sister."

"It's alright," Saoirse smiled. "I'm sure it will be nice to get out and see Small Heath at night."

Tommy snorted and let out a small chuckle. "Only someone who wasn't from Small Heath would say something like that."

"Surely it's not that bad," Saoirse frowned, unsure if he was just teasing her.

"Guess you'll have to find out for yourself, won't you?"

As he watched Saoirse leave, Tommy couldn't help but think about the lingering smell she left behind her. It was sweet and innocent smelling; like roses in the spring when they first bloom. He wished he could capture that scent and keep it with him always. Christ, he was turning into a sappy dolt.

….

Saoirse was just plating up dinner when Joe walked through the front door, slamming it loudly behind him. His steps were loud and thunderous and the expression on his face matched.

"What's wrong love?" she asked him, looking up from the potatoes she was scooping onto his plate.

"Just had a shit day," he grunted, grabbing a bottle of rum out of the cupboard and taking a swig straight from the bottle.

"Well why don't you sit down and I'll bring dinner over? Then you can tell me all about it," she smiled, picking the plates up and carrying them over to the table. Joe followed with the rum bottle and a glass tumbler.

"There isn't very much to talk about," Joe said. "I just had a bit of an argument with one of the other lads and it's put me in a stinking mood."

Saoirse got the feeling there was perhaps something more to it, but she didn't want to push him. Especially not after the previous night when he had gotten so angry.

"Well, I've got something that will cheer you up," she announced. "We've been invited out to the pub for a few drinks tonight with Ada. You remember I told you about her? Mr Shelby's sister."

"I'm not in the mood, Saoirse," he said, stabbing at his mashed potatoes.

"Oh come on, it'll be fun," she tried again.

"What part of fucking no don't you understand!" he threw his plate at the wall and screamed.

Saoirse swallowed as her heart began to pound and a lump appeared in her throat. She jumped up from her seat and quickly set about picking up the broken pieces of crockery. Her vision began to blur and she couldn't stop the tears that dropped onto the floor.

"I'm sorry love," Joe placed a hand on her shoulder, making her jump. He bent down and helped her pick up the mess. "I'm just tired and I didn't mean to lose my temper."

"It's alright," Saoirse answered shakily.

"Look at me," Joe grabbed her face gently and forced her to look at him. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Don't worry," she whispered, sniffing and wiping at the tears on her face.

"You know I'd never hurt you, right?"

"I know that," she nodded. And she did. No matter how angry Joe might have gotten the last couple of nights, she knew he would sooner hurt himself than lay a finger on her in that way. "I'm sorry for pushing you about going out. It was a silly idea."

"No, it's me who should apologise," he told her. "It's Friday night and we should go out and have some fun."

"Joe, we don't hav-"

Joe put a finger to her lips to silence her. "We're going out," he kissed her nose. "I'm gonna show the men of Small Heath that I've got the most beautiful girl around."

Smiling, Saoirse kissed him gently on the mouth. "I love you."

….

The Garrison was pretty much as Saoirse expected. It was dark and bland, and it stunk of alcohol and smoke. But despite its bleak interior, it felt cosy and almost homely. The noise of talking and laughter was happy and welcoming.

"Saoirse! Over here!"

"I take it that's your friend?" Joe smirked, pointing to a table in the far corner near to the staircase at the back of the pub.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Saoirse chuckled, taking his hand and leading him over.

"I'm so glad you came," Ada smiled, standing up to greet them.

"Well, you didn't give me much of a choice," Saoirse snorted, taking off her coat and resting it on the back of her chair. "Ada, this is Joe."

"Nice to meet you," Ada shook his hand before casting Saoirse a knowing look. "Now I totally understand why you moved here."

"Ada," Polly admonished her with a grin of her own. She kissed Saoirse on the cheek before reaching out to shake Joe's hand. "Pleased to meet you, young man."

If Ada or Saoirse noticed the strange look on Polly's face when she shook hands with Joe, they didn't say. Polly dropped his hand quickly and wiped her own hand on the skirt of her dress discreetly. There was something about that man that had set her on edge. She didn't know what it was exactly, just that she knew to be wary of him.

"Have we met before?" Polly looked at him quizzically.

"I don't think so," Joe shook his head.

"You look… familiar," Polly said, her shrewd eyes weighing him up. "Oh well, never mind. Probably seen your doppelgänger lurking around these parts before."

"Aye something like that," Joe chuckled. "Can I get you ladies a drink?"

"We've just got one," Ada held up her full glass of gin with a grin. "But if you tell Harry behind the bar that you're with us, he'll be sure to sort you out with whatever you want."

"Aye ok, thank you," Joe smiled. "Saoirse, what is it you'll be wanting to drink?"

"Um I'll have whiskey please," she said. "And don't give me any of that rubbish you Scots drink. I want the proper stuff."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"Well, he's a handsome fellow, isn't he?" Ada smirked at Saoirse as Joe waded through the tables towards the bar. "Tell me, does he look as good out of clothes as he does in them?"

"Ada Shelby!" Polly hissed at her niece.

"What?" Ada shrugged innocently. "It's a normal human curiosity. Just because your legs have been closed for so long that they're full of cobwebs doesn't mean other people don't think about getting a handsome man in between theirs."

"You best fucking hope that no man's been between your legs or there'll be trouble from me _and_ your brothers," Polly glared at her pointedly. "Now get your mind out of the gutter and behave, will you?"

"But it's so much fun in the gutter," Ada smirked, taking a sip of her drink. "I'll let you answer that later when the old bag isn't listening," Ada whispered to Saoirse.

"The old bag can hear you," Polly raised an eyebrow and lit up a cigarette. "So, Saoirse, how have you found your first week working for Shelby Ltd? It's not been too terrible has it."

"I've enjoyed it," Saoirse smiled. "Mr Shelby said he was happy with how I'm doing which is nice to know."

"Oh call him Tommy, love," Polly smiled at her. "Mr Shelby makes him sound like a pompous old bastard."

"Actually he said he'd like me to call him Mr Shelby," Saoirse said quietly.

"Is that right?" Polly leant back in her seat and eyeballed a small room by the bar.

As if on cue, the door opened and out walked Mr Shelby, along with the other two Mr Shelbys. His eyes fell upon the three women and he said something to John, who sighed and left. As he and Arthur headed towards the girls, they didn't notice Joe walking in their direction until it was too late.

Joe swerved out of the way of a drunken man who was swaying precariously on his feet, and in doing so managed to send the contents of the two glasses in his hands flying down the front of Thomas' grey suit. In truth, no one was entirely sure how the drinks ended up where they did seeing as they should have landed a little to the left of Tommy, but no one thought for a minute that Joe had aimed for him on purpose. Not that it mattered anyway.

A hush fell over the pub and Saoirse stood up quickly, her chair scraping back on the uneven wooden floor.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Shelby," she stammered, placing herself in between Joe and Tommy who were staring at each other intently. They had the look of two lions weighing each other up before launching into a fight to the death.

"What are you sorry for?" Tommy asked, his eyes never leaving Joe's.

It was obvious that he was waiting for an apology from the Scot. Joe meanwhile stood completely unfazed, an apology the furthest thing from his mind.

"Here, let me clean that up for you," Saoirse murmured, taking a handkerchief out of her bag and beginning to wipe down the front of Tommy's suit jacket.

"Stop that," Joe snapped, yanking her hand away impatiently.

"Don't talk to her like that," Tommy growled at him.

"Or what?" Joe glared.

"You're new around here," Tommy said in an almost bored tone. "So you obviously don't know the way things go. Which is why I will be happy to overlook this unfortunate incident. However, one thing I can't excuse is your lack of apology. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I presumed that even in Scotland you people were taught manners."

Joe's neck turned red with anger and he clenched his jaw tightly.

"You're an arrogant piece of-"

"-I think maybe we should go," Saoirse decided, grabbing Joe by the arm, imploring him to say nothing else.

"We've not even had a drink yet," he answered.

"Yeah but-"

"-But nothing," Joe was adamant. "Your _friend_, Ada, invited us for a drink and that's what we're gonna have. Is there a problem with that, pal?"

Saoirse swallowed as Tommy's eyes blazed with fury.

"Apologise for spilling your drink and we'll say no more about it," Tommy said firmly.

"You'd be wise to accept Tommy's mercy," Arthur commented, his fists clenched at his sides. "There's many who have wished for his leniency and not been shown it."

"I'm not apologising for anything," Joe looked Tommy up and down like he was a piece of rubbish. It was an action that didn't go unnoticed by the patrons of the pub. A few of them shuffled themselves backwards to clear the way for the fight that they were convinced was imminent.

"Mr Shelby," Saoirse spoke quietly before either man could make another move. "I think that if perhaps everyone were to just take a moment to calm down then we could resolve this civilly. I'm sure that Joe is very sorry for spilling our drinks, and of course we will be more than happy to pay for your suit to be cleaned."

Tommy did nothing more than clench his jaw. He wanted to lash out but he was trying his hardest to remain calm. He could see Saoirse's worried expression out of the corner of his eyes, and for some reason that made him want to refrain from his usual reaction to being so disrespected.

"I think that Saoirse makes a fine point," Polly touched Tommy's arm. "Why don't we sit down and you two can introduce yourselves properly."

Tommy allowed himself to be pulled away from Joe even though he wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smirk off of the man's arrogant face. Saoirse let out a sigh of relief and pulled Joe to the other side of the table.

"Just one drink and then we'll go," she whispered to him, pushing him down into his seat. "I'll just go and get us another drink."

Standing up, she hurried over to the bar as the noise in the pub gradually returned to normal once more. Her eyes kept flicking over to the table making sure that Tommy and Joe weren't fighting. She felt Tommy's eyes following her on her way back, and when she reached the table again, Polly and Ada were trying their best to make light hearted conversation while Joe and Tommy continued to eyeball one another.

"Didn't take you for a whiskey drinker," Arthur said to Saoirse as she took a sip of the amber liquid. "Thought you'd be after the gin like our Ada."

"What can I say?" she shrugged. "It's the Irish in me."

"Not drinking any of that Scottish crap then?" Tommy commented before looking at Joe drolly. "No offense to you of course, mate."

"None taken," Joe smiled, although it didn't reach his eyes. He put an arm around Saoirse's shoulder and pulled her into his side. "She enjoys a Scot in every other way though, ain't that right doll?"

Saoirse blushed uncomfortably and internally she cringed. It was obvious by Joe's tone of voice what he meant. Saoirse looked down at the mahogany table so as to avoid anyone's eyes and wished for the ground to swallow her up. It was bad enough that everyone knew she was living in sin without them being allured to any of the sordid details.

Tommy looked at the top of Saoirse's bent head and felt rage wash over him. He wasn't adverse to men talking crudely about women; it was a normal occurrence. However, for a man to say something such about his fiancée, especially to a group of strangers was crossing the line. Even to him, a person that many others saw as the worst of mankind. A man's wife (or wife to be) was to always be shown respect in front of others.

"So how are you finding Birmingham compared to Glasgow?" Ada asked, trying to diffuse some of the palpable tension.

"Ach, well it's not too different really," Joe sipped his drink. "One big city is much like the other. Of course, in Glasgow though the people are much friendlier, but the girls are not as pretty as the ones here. You Birmingham lasses are a breed of our own."

He winked at Ada, and Saoirse felt herself stiffen against him. She knew he was just trying to be friendly, but she couldn't help the way it set her on edge. It wasn't that she was jealous as such, it was more just how inappropriate it seemed.

"Flattery will get you everywhere around here," Ada chuckled, but even she couldn't ignore the niggle of discomfort that played at the back of her mind. There was just something behind that friendly smile of his that suddenly didn't seem so sincere. She told herself it was most likely just because she was paranoid that he and Tommy were about to start a fight with one another, but deep down she believed it was just something about him. "Saoirse told me how you two met. I must say it's all very romantic."

"Aye, that it was," he squeezed Saoirse against him and kissed the side of her head. "Two days in Birmingham and this one falls practically to her knees in front of me. And that's where she's stayed most of the time since. Can a guy get any luckier?"

Saoirse stood up suddenly, her face flaming and tears threatening to spill.

"I want to go home," she announced, yanking on her coat.

"You've barely touched your drink," Joe frowned.

"I don't feel very well," she mumbled an excuse. "Can we just go please?"

"Can't hold her drink this one," Joe chortled, standing up. "But what my lady wants, she gets."

"Will you be alright, Saoirse?" Polly frowned.

"Yeah," Saoirse forced a small smile. "I think it's probably something I ate earlier. I'll be alright. I hope you're not offended that we're going so soon."

"Of course not dear," Polly answered sincerely. "You just get yourself to bed and hopefully you'll be right as rain again in the morning."

Saoirse practically ran out of the pub without barely a second glance at any of them. Joe downed the last of his drink and smiled thinly at the group.

"Was nice to meet you all," he smirked, making sure his gaze lingered on Tommy longer than everyone else. "Hopefully we can do it again soon."

"I don't like that man one little bit," Polly decided once the door swung shut behind Joe's large form.

"Me neither," Arthur commented. "What does she see in him? Sweet thing like her."

"Love is blind, Arthur," Polly pursed her lips.

Tommy didn't say anything as he nursed the drink in his hands. Harry had slipped it over only a moment before without Tommy even noticing. Tommy couldn't decide which part of him hated the Scot more. The part that completely disregarded the respect that he or any of the Peaky Blinders should be shown, or the part that would belittle and embarrass his own fiancée?

One thing he did know was that he was going to make it his mission to find out everything he could about this man. If not just for him, but for the auburn haired girl who had plagued his dreams for the last three nights. The red headed siren who called to him sweetly in his sleep.

….

Saoirse's footsteps echoed down the quiet alleyway, each step doing little to ebb the rage and shame coursing through her veins.

"Slow down, will you?" Joe grumbled, lighting up a cigarette as he walked almost leisurely behind her. "You'd think death was on your tail the speed you're going at."

"I wish it was," she muttered, turning to glare at him. "Death would be better than having to face the Shelby's on Monday after that little performance."

"Performance? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about?" she laughed dryly, coming to a stop and her eyes blazing with fury. "Are you serious? Where to begin? First of all, there was that ridiculous stand off between you and Mr Shelby over the drinks. You could have just apologised like any normal human being and it would have been fine. Instead you behaved like an absolute dickhead and created an atmosphere when there didn't need to be one. Do you have any idea how dangerous he is? And his brother?"

"Just cos everyone else is scared of Thomas fucking Shelby, doesn't mean I am," Joe scoffed. "And I certainly wasn't gonna back down to the prick. He doesn't own me and he certainly doesn't tell me what to do or how to behave."

"He's my boss, Joe," Saoirse was exasperated by him. "Whatever your feelings about the man are, couldn't you have just put that aside to show some respect for the fact that the man pays my wages. He could sack me at the click of a fingers and then what would we do?"

"Find you another job," he answered curtly.

"But I like _this_ job," she sighed. "I just don't understand what is wrong with you. We've been here for less than a week and you've changed. You're moody and agitated. You were flirting with Ada for crying out loud, and you basically sat there and told my boss all about our sex life. This isn't the Joe I know or love, and I don't like your behaviour."

"You don't like my behaviour?" Joe narrowed his eyes at her. He walked towards her, only his face illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette in his mouth.

Saoirse swallowed nervously and stepped backwards away from him. When her back suddenly met with the cold stone wall, she tried not to panic as she felt like an animal trapped by a much larger predator.

"You don't like my behaviour?" Joe repeated, before grabbing her roughly by the top of the arm. "And who the fuck are you to tell me you don't like my fucking behaviour?"

"Joe, I-"

'-Shut up," he spat, his other hand reaching up to grab her by the face. His fingers on her face and arm were squeezing so hard that she cried out in pain. "I think you're forgetting yourself, Saoirse. Don't ever _ever_ fucking tell me how I can and can't behave, do you hear me?"

She nodded, her bottom lip trembling.

"Now apologise and we'll say no more about it," he ordered.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

After one final squeeze, he let go of her. Saoirse put a hand to her chest, her heart pounding wildly underneath the skin. Joe turned and walked away, and numbly she followed him feeling bewildered and shaken.

….

That night as they lay in bed, Saoirse faced the wall and tried her hardest not to cry. She couldn't get the furious glint in Joe's eye out of her mind. Her arm was bruised and her jaw was sore where he had grabbed her.

She felt Joe shift behind her and she flinched when his hand slid across her stomach. She held her breath when he cupped her breast and his mouth began to kiss the sensitive flesh of her neck.

"Joe," she murmured, trying to wriggle away. "I'm not in the mood."

"I can make you in the mood," he purred suggestively against her neck.

"I said no," she shrugged him off.

But Joe wasn't taking no for an answer. He pulled up her night gown and slid a hand under her knickers, his fingers probing and teasing. Saoirse closed her eyes. She wanted to push him away but she knew that in his own way this was how he was apologising for his behaviour. She reached up a hand until she found his stubbly face and she cupped it gently. He leant down and kissed her softly on the lips while his fingers continued their pleasuring assault.

"You know you really upset me earlier," Joe whispered against her mouth. "The way you treated me was really out of order."

"I know," Saoirse found herself saying, in between gasps. Thinking back, she decided that perhaps she had overstepped the mark. Joe was tired because he was working hard. His job in the blacksmiths was much more physical than her job and the hours were longer. Was it any wonder he was so tired and grouchy? And as for the incident with Mr Shelby; what right did she have to question Joe's decision? The way he conducted himself with another a man was his choice and his alone. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are, love," Joe murmured, standing up and pulling off his pyjama bottoms. He picked Saoirse up under her arms so she was kneeling and then pulled her towards the end of the bed. "But I know how you can prove your apology."

Saoirse nodded and allowed her head to be guided towards his throbbing member. Holding her head still, he fucked her mouth, not relenting even when she made a choking sound. Saoirse wanted to tear her mouth away and beg him to stop but she was supposed to be earning Joe's forgiveness and she didn't want to disappoint him further. So she told herself to let Joe do what he wanted, even when he stiffened and his seed filled her mouth. Despite the fact that he knew she hated that, she wouldn't allow herself to complain.

"Swallow it," he commanded, and like the good girl she was, she did.

Snaking her arms up around Joe's neck, she tried to kiss him, hoping that he was going to reward her good behaviour with some relief of her own. But he pushed her away and lay down on his side, his back facing her. Within minutes he was asleep, leaving Saoirse feeling strangely used.

….

Monday morning came too quickly, and when Saoirse entered the office that moment, she decided that she needed to get her embarrassment about the night at the pub out of the way as quickly as possible instead of stewing on it.

"Morning Mr Shelby," she said, hanging up her coat.

Tommy looked up and his face immediately softened subconsciously.

"Morning Saoirse," he smiled. "Pleasant weekend?"

"Yes thank you," she nodded. It really had been more than pleasant. After her apology, Joe had been so loving and caring all weekend. He had been his old self again and it was a delight. "I wondered though if I might talk to you about what happened on Friday night."

"There's no need," Tommy waved a dismissive hand.

"Please," she said. "It would make me feel better if I could just apologise and then we could forget all about it?"

"Like I said on Friday night, there's nothing for _you_ to apologise for. You did nothing wrong."

"I understand that," Saoirse agreed. "But I just don't want you to think terribly of Joe for his rude behaviour. He's not usually so… argumentative. He's just been struggling with his new job and I don't believe he was thinking straight. I don't think he meant to cause you any offense, Mr Shelby and I hope you will accept my apology on his behalf."

Tommy looked at Saoirse as she spoke. Really looked at her. She seemed to believe what she was saying, yet he didn't for one minute believe any of it to be true. He had asked around the blacksmiths about their newest employee, and it seemed that already Joe had proved himself to be hot headed and temperamental. Tommy didn't trust the man one bit. He reminded him of another he once knew.

"Saoirse, if it really means so much to you I will accept the apology," he decided.

"Thank you," Saoirse smiled sincerely. "And will you let me have your suit cleaned?"

"Not a chance," Tommy shook his head. "Now is that the end of it?"

Saoirse smirked and nodded. "I believe so, Mr Shelby."

"Good," Tommy smiled thinly. "Now before you go to your desk, I'd like to tell you a story if I may?"

Saoirse eyed Tommy warily. "A story?" she questioned.

"A story," he nodded, lighting up a cigarette and leaning back in his chair. "Many years ago there was a beautiful woman. She was so beautiful that it was said that even God cried when he first looked upon her in her mother's arms. As she grew so did her beauty and it was evident to all that she was as perfect on the inside as she was on the outside. One day she met a man, like all young women do, and she fell head over heels in love. Sweet words and gentle touches was all it took for the man to persuade the woman to give him her virtue. That virtue turned into a babe and a wedding soon followed before anyone could suspect a thing. And that was when it changed. You see, love had made the girl blind to the man's faults. She knew they were there; she had witnessed them many a time but when he looked at her it was different. _He_ was different. Only he wasn't different. And eventually the rose tinted glasses she wore faded to dull and she was left to suffer the consequences of her choice. If only she had listened to those around her, then it could have been different for her."

"What happened to the woman?" Saoirse asked, almost hypnotised by the gentle lull of Tommy's voice.

"She died not long after the birth of her fifth child," Tommy looked down at the desk and then his eyes flicked back up towards her. "But her spirit was dead long before that."

_Tommy opened his eyes as the bedroom door creaked open. In the darkness he could just about make out the small silhouettes of his younger brother and sister._

"_Why aren't you two in bed?"_

"_We couldn't sleep," Ada whispered, climbing over the bed to him. _

"_He's hurting Mum again," John sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the crack through the open door as though he wanted to slip through it and put an end to the noise downstairs. But he knew, they all knew, that it would only make things worse. Arthur, as the eldest, had already gone down and had received a back hander across the face for his interference that had left him knocked out on the kitchen floor._

"_I'm scared Tommy," Ada sobbed, clutching at her ragdoll as though it was the only thing keeping her alive. _

"_I know," Tommy sighed. Gathering her up onto his lap and pulling John into his side, he held them close._

_As his mother's screams floated up the staircase, Tommy closed his eyes and wished with all his might that he could do something, anything. And that was the day that Thomas Shelby decided he would never grow up to be weak. He would never grow up and see any woman ever suffer in the way his mother had._


	5. Chapter 5

_Two weeks later_

It was Sunday evening and Saoirse lay in bed, listening to the rhythmic tick-tocking of the small clock on her bedside table and chewing her lip apprehensively. It was after midnight and she was alone in the flat. Joe had disappeared after lunch to meet up with a few work colleagues for a drink and promised to be home before seven. At first, Saoirse hadn't been too concerned when an hour passed the discussed time and he still hadn't returned. Knowing Joe in the way she did, she understood that he was a terrible judge of time, and when he was caught up in the moment of having fun, he didn't often think of anyone or anything else. However, it was now over two hours since the pub would have closed and she was beginning to think that perhaps something might have happened to him.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Saoirse grimaced as the frigid night air wrapped itself around her body. She reached for a blanket and flung it around herself before lighting the small lantern next to the clock. The sudden thud at the front door startled her momentarily, but then she couldn't help chuckling when she heard Joe's unsteady footsteps stomping down the hallway, accompanied by the sound of him muttering to himself unintelligibly.

Still chortling, she followed him. However, her mirth quickly turned to shock and dread when she entered the kitchen and set her eyes upon him.

"What on earth happened?" she gasped, her eyes wide with horror as she took in his dishevelled appearance. His nose was bloody and he had a nasty looking gash down the side of his left cheek. She was certain that if it wasn't for the meek light of the lantern, his face would look a damn sight worse.

"I'm fine," Joe muttered, his breath stinking of rum. "Just got into a little bit of a tousle is all."

"It looks to me that it was a bit more than a tousle," Saoirse pursed her lips, pouring some water into a bowl and bringing it over to the kitchen table.

"Ach, you should see the other guy. Well actually he got away fairly lightly compared to me. He was at an unfair advantage considering he had two friends with him."

"You really should go to the police about this. Three against one isn't a fair fight. It's downright disgraceful. Can you remember what they looked like? And where were your friends from work when all this happened?"

"Saoirse, the police would laugh me outta the bloody station. And my pals had already left at this point. I was just finishing my drink and I was about to head off myself when this happened."

"That's even worse. You were just minding your own business, enjoying a quiet drink and you were set upon for no reason."

Joe didn't answer and instead just closed his eyes to doze. He didn't want to look at Saoirse while she cleaned his face tenderly. He didn't want to have to tell her the truth about what had occurred. Didn't want to tell her how he had tried getting a little friendly with some girl at the pub, knowing full well that her boyfriend worked with him at the blacksmith's factory. When the girl had refused his advances, he had been unwilling to be deterred until her boyfriend and two other blokes from the yard had got into a fight with him about it.

"Anyway, I think you'll live," Saoirse smiled, kissing him gently on the cheek once she had finished cleaning him up. Once she had wiped the blood away, his cuts were fairly superficial, and she found her initial worry eased somewhat.

"You're a good nurse," Joe smirked, running his hands under her nightgown. He pulled down her underwear and caressed her bare bottom, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. "I'm sure your healing hands will fix me. Or maybe if I'm a good boy you can kiss me better?"

"Hmm," Saoirse purred, sitting on his lap. "Shall we go to bed? I'm certain I could tend to you better there."

"I reckon I could be persuaded. Let me just get another drink."

Saoirse climbed off of Joe's lap and watched as he meandered on wobbly feet to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of rum. Yanking out the cork with his teeth, he spat it out before downing almost half of the bottle without coming up for air.

"Joe, stop," Saoirse chuckled and tried to take hold of the bottle. His grip was strong though, and continuing to giggle, she tried to prise his fingers from around the glass neck. "Come on, I think you've already had enough don't you?"

And with those few words, Joe's demeanour abruptly changed. His eyes turned even darker and before she even knew what had happened, Saoirse found herself on the floor with a split lip and blood pouring down her chin. Joe yanked her up roughly by the shoulder and growled into her face. "I think it's for me to decide when I've had enough. What? Got nothing to say? No answer for me? Should have kept your mouth shut a few seconds earlier and then you wouldn't have made me do that."

Saoirse said nothing. She couldn't have even if she wanted to. She was terrified of the man before her. He may as well have been a complete stranger, for he was nothing like her Joe. Her bottom lip wobbled and tears splashed onto her cheeks.

"Oh for fucks sakes, I didn't hit you that hard," Joe snarled. "Stop your whingeing and get yourself into bed. Be a good girl for me and we'll forget all about this, right?"

"I don't want to," she whispered, her voice shaking as much as her body.

"You don't want to?" Joe pulled a mocking face. "That's not what you were saying two minutes ago."

"Well, I changed my mind."

"Fuck you, you little slut."

And with that, he stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Saoirse stood there for a few moments, her entire being quivering. She heard him banging around in the bedroom and worried that he was going to come back out. But eventually all fell silent, and she could hear his faint snores through the paper-thin wall.

Lying down on the small couch, she curled up into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut. She willed herself to cry, but the truth was that numbness spread throughout her entire body. Joe had done the one thing she had been certain he would never do, and now she had no idea how to process it. Sleep would be a long time in coming.

…

As it happened, sleep didn't come at all, and when the seventh chime from the church down the road sounded, Saoirse snuck into the bedroom to blessedly find Joe still sleeping. Eyeing him warily, she dressed quickly and quietly in the hopes of not disturbing him. She didn't want to face him after the previous night. She didn't care if that made her a coward. Her hands trembled at the mere thought of it, and when she applied her make up in the cracked bathroom mirror she realised that there was going to be no way of covering her split lip which had now scabbed over into an unsightly mess. With a sigh, she began to formulate a lie in her head. A lie that she could easily recount should anyone enquire about her injury.

Saoirse scribbled Joe a note explaining that she had gone into work early to prepare for an important meeting and closed the front door inaudibly behind her. It was only once she had left her street that she released a breath she hadn't even known she was holding.

It was cold out, but she welcomed the biting wind because it allowed her to feel a physical pain; unlike the pain in her heart. Every emotion tore through her; confusion, hurt, upset. Even with her eyes open, she kept on envisaging the look on Joe's face when he had struck her. The look in his eyes had been alien to her.

Completely drenched in her thoughts, it took less than no time at all to reach Watery Lane and Saoirse realised to her dismay that it would be a while yet before anyone would be around to let her in. She supposed she could knock at the front door, but she didn't want to interrupt the family's breakfast and nor did she want to arouse any suspicion regarding her face. One thing she knew was that it was far too cold to be standing around waiting, so she decided she may as well take a walk around the block. It would pass the time as well as stop her from freezing.

Heading along the back alleyway, she hadn't got more than halfway down it when she heard a groan come from behind one of the outhouses. Frowning, and ignoring her better judgment, she stepped forward to have a closer look.

Immediately, she fell to her knees when she realised it was Arthur. He was lying in a heap next to a smashed bottle of whiskey and something that looked suspiciously like vomit.

"Arthur," she pushed his hair away from his face and peered over him in concern. "Arthur it's me, it's Saoirse. Are you alright?"

"Saoirse," Arthur slurred, his head rolling from side to side. He opened his eyes but couldn't make them focus on her properly.

"You're freezing," Saoirse tutted, yanking off her coat and placing it over him. "Just stay right there, and I'll go and get someone to help."

"No," Arthur shook his head, grasping desperately at the sleeve of her blouse. "Don't want them to see me like this. Tommy… Polly… they'll fucking kill me."

"Well we need to get you in the warm. You're lucky you're not dead from hypothermia already."

"Hypothermia? Swallow a fucking dictionary, did you?"

"You know what? If you're going to just take the piss then I'll leave you here," Saoirse warned him, half-serious and half not.

Arthur sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as he sat up gingerly. He felt like he had gone twelve rounds in the boxing ring.

"I've got the key to the den somewhere," he announced, rifling around his waistcoat pocket, grinning with relief when his hand touched the cold brass. "We can sneak in there and lay low until I don't smell like a brewery."

"We'll be laying low for a long time then," Saoirse raised an eyebrow. She didn't care if she was being rude, and to a Shelby no less. She was at the end of her tether with men who couldn't handle their drink.

Arthur just grinned and on shaky legs tried to stand up.

"Put this back on sweetheart," he smiled, draping Saoirse's coat around her shoulders before starting to walk back up the alley towards the Shelby's back gate.

Using the wall and Saoirse to keep him steady, it took them longer than usual but eventually the cold air began to sober Arthur up. Quietly, they opened the gate, hoping that no one in the house heard the wood creaking, and they shuffled to the back door. Taking the key from Arthur, Saoirse unlocked the door and they hurried inside, groaning at the warmth that awaited them.

It was still rather dark inside the den, the thick curtains not having been drawn yet, and Arthur was grateful for it. Well, it was more his head that was grateful for it. Saoirse led him into the back office and sat him down on a chair.

"We need to get you warmed up," she said, motioning to his fingers which were still freezing cold. Taking one of his hands gently in between her own, she breathed onto it and then began rubbing.

"If you wanted to hold my hand love, you only had to ask," Arthur grinned.

"Shut up," Saoirse snorted. "Or else would you prefer I leave them to fall off?"

Arthur didn't say anything, he just watched with amusement as she repeated her actions on his other hand.

"What happened to your face?" he asked.

"Got into a fight with the kitchen cupboard. The cupboard won."

Arthur wasn't sure he believed her, but he decided it maybe wasn't the time to pry. However, he made a little mental note to mention it to Tommy and the others.

"You feeling any better yet?" Saoirse asked him, changing the subject. He had some colour in his cheeks once again and his hands were warming up nicely.

"I feel like I've been run over by a freight train," Arthur groaned. "I don't know why I fucking do it to myself."

"The lure of the drink is just too strong?"

"Something like that," Arthur mumbled, looking down at the floor.

And that was when Saoirse saw it. Something in his eyes that just didn't look right. It was sadness. No, more than that. It was the look of someone whose very soul was in pain. Vulnerable was a word she never thought to acquaint with the man before her, but in that moment it was the only word that came to mind.

So, Saoirse did the only thing she could think of. She placed her arms around Arthur and hugged him. His body tensed momentarily but then just as quickly he was hugging her back. She felt his shoulders shake and then there was something wet on her neck where his face had burrowed into her like a child. Rubbing a hand up and down his back soothingly, she just held him while he released whatever it was that was hurting.

"Sorry about that," he cleared his throat, lifting his red-rimmed eyes to her with embarrassment. "I just get like this sometimes."

Saoirse took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, not the least phased by his admission.

"Since the war, you know," he explained with a shrug. "Flanders blues I've heard it called. But I can't explain it. It just happens. One minute I'm doing ok and the next it's like I'm back there. I can hear the gunshots and the screams of young men, barely more than boys, begging for their mothers as they lay dying in a muddy field. I can smell the blood of the men and the horses who've been shot; the smoke of the guns. My heart races, my palms sweat, and my ears making this loud swooshing sort of noise, and drinking is the only thing that takes it away. I drink so I don't feel and I drink so I don't remember. I drink and hope that one day I won't ever wake up again, but I always do."

"Don't say that," Saoirse's bit at her bottom lip as it wobbled. The gut-wrenching agony in Arthur's eyes was killing her. She wished she had the power to take it all away from him. "There's people here that would miss you."

"Yeah right."

"It's true," she grabbed hold of his face and stared into his eyes, imploring him to listen and understand. "Your brothers for a start, your sister, your Aunt Pol. They love you and they need you."

"They don't," he sniffed "I'm just a fucking disappointment to them. Look at me."

"You're not a disappointment to anyone. You get up every day and continue to live your life, despite feeling like this. That takes so much courage and so much strength. I'll never be able to comprehend what you boys had to go through so that we could have peace, but those people who expect you to just suck it up and act like it was nothing of consequence are the ones that are the disappointments," she spoke fiercely. "They're the cowards. You know why? Cos they're afraid of showing emotion. They're afraid of showing their real selves for fear of being judged or ridiculed. A person's emotions don't make them weak. They're what make them strong enough to conquer anything life throws at them. So don't ever ever let me hear you talk about yourself as though you're anything less than brave and strong. Are you listening?"

"I'm listening," Arthur nodded, humbled and overwhelmed by her speech. "And you know I think that you're strong too."

"Me?"

"Yeah. You grew up in that god awful place and look at you. You're still full of compassion for other people. You have more compassion than most people I've ever met."

"I don't think St Bernadette's compares to fighting in the war," Saoirse smirked.

"You listen to me now," Arthur told her. "I've never heard anything nice about that place. In fact, it was the place my Dad used to threaten us with to make us behave. Now, when I think about a young girl going in there after losing both of her parents, I imagine someone full of hatred and contempt for the world emerging at the age of eighteen. But you're nothing like that. You've not let whatever happened in there dampen your spirits or quash you."

"If only that was the truth, Arthur," she gave him a sad smile. Rolling up her blouse sleeve, she held out her arm to reveal faint criss-cross lines marring her otherwise perfect skin. "This was the only way I could cope sometimes. We weren't allowed to cry or laugh or show any emotion at all unless we wanted to be punished. This way the way I let it all out. It wasn't that I wanted to die or anything drastic like that. It was just that I wanted a release for all the feelings inside me."

Arthur ran his finger over the lines, a sad expression on his face.

"See, I'm not as strong as you think," Saoirse mumbled.

"No," Arthur shook his head, looking up at her. "You are, love."

Saoirse smiled and cupped his cheek. "Why don't we agree to disagree and say that we both are?"

"I reckon I could agree to that," Arthur smiled back. "But let me just add one more thing onto that deal, yeah? If you ever ever feel like you felt back then, enough to want to hurt yourself like that again, promise you'll come to me."

"I promise," she nodded. But deep down she knew she was a liar. Because no matter how bad things got, Saoirse had never relied on anyone else to fix her problems for her. She had to fix them herself. "Now why don't we get you a drink? Something warm and non-alcoholic?"

"Good idea," Arthur agreed. "And Saoirse? Thank you."

"Don't mention it," she smiled. "What are friends for?"

Unbeknownst to the pair of them, a pair of feet silently disappeared back into the house before Saoirse left the office. A pair of feet that had heard the heartfelt conversation inside.

…

After a rough start to the morning, the rest of the day went without a hitch. Mr Shelby had a few meetings that Saoirse was required to take notes for, and Arthur and John were sent to do some errands. What kind of errands, Saoirse didn't know. In all honesty, she didn't think she wanted to know.

So after the meetings, Mr Shelby had disappeared for a few hours leaving Saoirse to do some paperwork and write up the notes from the meetings, as well as schedule some appointments for the next few weeks. She was just typing up her last report when little Finn knocked on her open door.

"Hello Finn," she smiled, truly happy to see the cheeky faced boy. "How are you today? Did you go to school?"

"I did," he nodded proudly. "And I didn't even leave at lunchtime. I stayed for the whooooooole day."

"That's super," Saoirse grinned. Polly had mentioned to her the trouble they'd been having getting the youngest Shelby to attend school. "And did you enjoy it?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "It's boring. But Tommy says if I don't go to school then I can't be a peaky blinder when I'm older. Anyway, Tommy sent me because he wants to see you in his office."

"Did he say what for?" Saoirse asked.

"Nah," Finn shook his head. "He just finished shouting at Scudboat and then asked me to send you in."

"Thanks, Finn," Saoirse gave him a wobbly smile that did not reflect her inner feelings. Tommy didn't sound like he would be in the best of moods.

"Enter," he spoke as she knocked tentatively on his office door.

"Finn said you wanted to see."

"Yeah, take a seat," he motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

As she sat, he gathered up the papers before him and stacked them up neatly before moving them aside.

"Did you finish the Bernham report?"

"Almost," Saoirse answered. "I've just got a little bit left to write up and then it's ready to have the lawyer look over."

Tommy nodded, pulling a bottle of whiskey out of his desk drawer along with two glasses. "Drink?"

"Oh, no thank you," Saoirse declined politely.

"Very well," Tommy muttered, pouring the amber liquid into a glass and taking a sip before he leaned back in his chair to look at her.

Saoirse didn't know why, but there was something about the way he was looking at her that made her feel as though he could see every thought running through her head.

"So do you want to tell me what's happened to your lip?"

"Excuse me?" she sputtered. She hadn't been expecting that. She didn't know why she thought he hadn't noticed. It was obvious that Thomas Shelby noticed everything, but Saoirse just figured that after spending almost all day with him, he would have mentioned it before now if he intended to.

"Your lip," Tommy repeated, eyeing her almost lazily. The expression on his face could have been that of someone inquiring about the weather. "Arthur mentioned something about you and the kitchen cupboard having an altercation."

_If you know then why the hell are you asking? _

"I'm asking because it's my business to know why my secretary has turned up with a bust lip," Tommy answered, and with a horrified grimace Saoirse realised that she had spoken out loud.

"Well it's exactly like I told Arthur," she replied, forcing herself to try and meet his gaze. "I got up in the middle of the night for a drink and I hadn't noticed that one of the cupboard doors was open; you know, the ones above the sink? Anyway, I walked right into it and quite frankly I was lucky to get away with just a split lip."

Tommy narrowed his eyes at her. On the surface, her answer seemed plausible alongside the calm manner with which she delivered it. However, when he looked closer he noticed the way her eyes flickered around nervously, unable to meet his own for longer than a few seconds; the way her hand twitched subconsciously on her lap. He continued to stare at her, thinking that perhaps she might cave under his intense gaze and reveal what he thought to be the truth. But no. She remained silent.

"Well maybe you need to invest in some better lighting for when you're wandering around in the night," he smirked.

"You're probably right," she smiled, although it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Speaking of Arthur," Tommy cleared his throat and lit himself a cigarette. "I overheard the two of you this morning in the office."

Saoirse opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. She didn't know how to reply. It was difficult to tell by the tone of his voice whether he was annoyed or not.

"I had a feeling when he didn't return home last night that he had probably gotten stinking drunk and ended up in a state. So how did you come upon him?"

"I found him behind one of the outhouses in the alleyway," she answered quietly.

Tommy let out a sigh and shook his head. "You know, since the war he gets himself into these states and no one can talk reason into him. I've tried, Polly's tried, we've all tried. But he's stuck in his head and it's proving to be his own worst enemy."

"Forgive me for speaking out of line Mr Shelby, but as someone who fought in the war himself, I thought you might be a little more understanding towards your brother. If you truly did hear the conversation between me and Arthur, then you would know that he feels as though he is a disappointment to you all. I swear I'm not trying to be rude, but as his brother, or at the least a human being, do you not feel an ounce of sympathy towards him? Perhaps this is the point where you tell me that you suffer no ill effects of your time spent fighting? And do you know what I would say to that? Lies. Complete and utter lies. I don't know anyone who couldn't be affected by the horrors of war, which is why I find your complete lack of empathy towards Arthur diabolical."

Tommy tried his hardest to hold back a grin at the impassioned tirade that had left her red face and shaking with anger. The fierce way in which she had defended his brother, like a lioness defending its cub, had only lifted her in his estimations. And it proved to him that how she had spoken with Arthur that morning had been sincere and heartfelt.

"Have you quite finished?" Tommy said finally, raising an eyebrow. "I'll take your silence as an affirmative. You're completely right in what you're saying, Saoirse. However, don't for one single minute think that I don't feel sympathy towards my brother because I do. The battles inside his head are the ones that all of us serving men feel daily. The only thing that differs between me and Arthur is that while he lets his consume him, I let mine empower me."

"But at what cost? Arthur is destroying himself physically in the hopes of healing. But in not allowing yourself to have an outlet for your emotions, Mr Shelby, you're only rotting yourself from the inside. How is that any different to what your brother is doing?"

"Perhaps you're right," Tommy shrugged. "And perhaps you're not. How a person chooses to deal with things is their own choice, isn't it?" His eye flicked down towards her arms and Saoirse knew what he was referring to. "Let me say one thing to you, Saoirse. My brother, while he may be somewhat more emotionally open than the rest of us, does not usually show that side to anyone who isn't his family. The fact that he chose to show that part of himself to you says a lot. And I must thank you for being there for him."

"No thanks necessary," Saoirse smiled genuinely. "I would happily be there for Arthur whenever he needs me."

"Well it seems that we are very lucky to have you, aren't we?"

"I don't know about that. It is only Arthur I offered to help, I don't remember extending that offer to the rest of you," she grinned, her eyes twinkling playfully.

"Offering Arthur preferential treatment?" Tommy smirked. "Perhaps you've forgotten that I'm the one who pays your wages, eh?"

"Oh, I've not forgotten. It's just that I prefer Arthur is all," she grinned again. "Now before you cry at my admission, shall I go and finish that report? Or did you need me for anything else?"

"No, I think you should go before you wound me any further with your words," Tommy's eyes glistened with humour. "Finish your report and then get yourself home, ok?"

"Thank you, Mr Shelby."

"Oh and Saoirse? Call me Tommy, won't you? I believe we're past formalities now."

Saoirse walked out of the office feeling like she had just won a great victory. She felt warm and fuzzy inside, all from being able to use someone's first name. It was the small things in life.

….

Saoirse did everything she could to make her dreaded journey home take as long as possible. She walked the longest way, dawdled, stopped and looked in every shop window. But eventually she conceded that she had to face the music. What awaited her when she returned was nothing short of surprising.

Unlocking the door, she sniffed. Burning. Something was burning. She followed the smell into the kitchen where Joe was stood at the stove, peering into a pan with a frown on his face.

"You're back," he beamed, moving the pan and walking towards her.

Subconsciously, Saoirse felt her feet move to take a step backwards and the smile on Joe's face faltered. He looked hurt.

"Don't be afraid of me, Saoirse," he spoke quietly, as one would an animal when they didn't wish to spook it. He lifted his hand slowly to cup her cheek, pretending he didn't see the way her body flinched when he touched her. He ran his thumb gently over her lip, looking ashamed with himself when it ran across the scab. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really," Saoirse mumbled, unable to tear her eyes away from his.

"You weren't here when I woke up this morning. I know you had to go to work early, but I wish I'd had the chance to apologise instead of spending the entire day wondering if you would come back at all."

"Sorry."

"What are _you_ sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong. It's me who's sorry. I don't know how to even begin to apologise for what I did last night. I'm so ashamed of myself, Saoirse. You mean everything in the world to me, and knowing that I hurt you like that makes me feel like the worst human on this earth. Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me?"

Saoirse looked at Joe. Looked at him and saw the sincerity on his face. How could she not forgive him? He looked like a little lost puppy who was craving the love of its master after chewing their shoe.

"I understand if you don't think you can. But I want you to know that from the bottom of my heart, I'll do everything I can to earn your forgiveness and prove how sorry I am. That's what this was all about," Joe motioned to the stove behind him. "I wanted to try and cook you a nice dinner, but truly I've buggered it. I left the pan for two minutes while I went to change and the whole thing burnt."

"You were cooking for me?" Saoirse gave a small smile, peering over his shoulder at the stove.

"Aye," he grinned. "I was. But it's safe to say that I'm not fit to be left in the kitchen unsupervised."

"Well the thought was there," she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. "Why don't you sit down and I'll make us something?"

"Why don't we make something together?"

"Only if you promise not to burn anything else," Saoirse teased.

"Cross my heart."

And just like that, last night was forgotten. Well, perhaps not forgotten but set aside somewhere it wouldn't constantly be on Saoirse's mind. She believed Joe's apology and one thing she had learned from her time in the orphanage was that harbouring resentment was bad for the inner soul. If she didn't forgive Joe, the only person to suffer would be her. All she could do now was move on and allow things to go back to normal.


	6. Chapter 6

_Four weeks later_

_Tommy was sat at the table, watching his father eat the huge slab of meat on his plate. Despite the amount of money the head of the Shelby family had wasted on alcohol and whores this week alone, his subservient wife had made sure to serve him meat with dinner. The rest of them had eaten bread and dripping. Tommy tried to ignore the growl in his stomach as the man before him shovelled the food into his mouth like an animal, gravy slopping down his chin. _

"_I heard that you got into a fight with Adam Welsh's son today," his father spoke, chugging back the cup of stout in his hand. He set the cup on the table and raised his cold eyes to his second oldest son finally. _

_Tommy said nothing. Around the table, Arthur averted his eyes while his mother sat with John on the seat beside her and a baby Ada on her knee. _

"_From what I was told, young Peter Welsh gave you a right good seeing to. I was told that you just took it and didn't even try to fight back. Is it true?" Still Tommy made no move to acknowledge what was being said. He stood, straight as a pole and staring at the mirror on the wall behind his father's head. "Are you deaf, boy?"_

_Tommy's eyes flickered to his mother who was looking at him so sadly that it broke his heart. He could see the blame in those hazel orbs of hers. There was one reason that Tommy hadn't fought back and he was looking at that reason. He had promised his mother that he wouldn't get into fights anymore. So even when Peter Welsh and his friends had started saying nasty things about dirty fucking pikeys, Tommy had kept his word. _

"_Don't look at her! I'm talking to you not that fucking bitch!" his dad roared, slamming his hand down on the table._

_Ada burst into terrified tears while John buried his face into his mother's side. _

"_Yes," Tommy swallowed thickly. "It's true."_

_His father clenched his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose, and everyone held their breaths waiting for his next move. It came as no surprise when he leapt up from his chair and dragged Tommy up by the scruff of his collar. He threw Tommy onto the hard floor and swiftly began unbuckling his belt. His mother jumped up from her chair, flinging Ada into Arthur's arms and reaching for her husband, begging him to stop. When his fist met her nose with a sickening crunch, she fell to the floor but quickly scrambled back up again. _

"_Please, don't hurt him," she sobbed. _

"_It's your fucking fault this has happened," he kicked her in the stomach. "Keep. Your. Fucking. Nose. Out." He punctuated every word with a kick to her face and body until she lay unable to move. Without even pausing for breath, his father towered over Tommy, the belt in his hand. "You like getting beaten up, do you? You like tarnishing the fucking Shelby name? This is my fucking family and what I say goes. Next time, you fight back. You hear me? You fucking fight back." And with that he brought the belt down upon Tommy's back. Again. Again. Tommy did nothing more than take it; his face contorted in agony. He knew it only enraged his father more. His father wanted him to cry and beg. Well, he fucking wouldn't. The leather bit into his skin over and over until he was certain he had no skin left. Eventually his father stopped, panting and sweating, staring down at his son with disgust. Without another word, he put his belt back on and left; no doubt off whoring or drinking while his children remained to deal with the bloody aftermath of his brutality. _

"Hello, is there anyone in there?"

Tommy blinked. And again. Saoirse was in front of him looking at her with a curious expression. Her lips were moving but he couldn't make out what she was saying.

"What?" he croaked, frowning at her.

"Mr Jones is here for his meeting with you," she smiled, dropping a file on his desk. "Are you back in the land of the living now? You were a bit lost then."

"Right," Tommy cleared his throat and pulled out his cigarette case. "Yeah, I was just thinking."

"Ooh that's dangerous," Saoirse teased with a grin. "I wondered what the loud ticking noise was."

Usually Tommy would have smiled at her gentle teasing. It was something he had grown fond of over the last few weeks. Their boss and employee relationship had slowly turned into a sort of friendship as well. She did her work efficiently, but she was always around to have a joke with as well. But he was still stuck in the past, where nothing was funny at all.

"Shall I send him in then?"

"Who?" Tommy furrowed his brow, rubbing his cigarette across his lips before settling it comfortably in one corner.

"Mr Jones," Saoirse rolled her eyes and tutted.

"Oh right, yeah," Tommy cleared his throat again. "Yeah, send him in."

…..

The meeting was over in less than an hour, and when Tommy opened the office door to escort Mr Jones out, he found Arthur and John perched on either side of Saoirse's desk; the three of them chortling with their heads close together. After seeing Mr Jones out, Tommy paused at the scene of all of the merriment with his eyes narrowed.

"Dare I ask?"

"We were just telling Saoirse here about the time you got your head stuck in the railings when Mum took us to the cemetery on Great-Grandma's anniversary."

At that, Saoirse snorted and couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her throat. Perhaps it was the fact that it was her boss, or it was just the way that Arthur and John told the story, but she couldn't get the image out of her head. An eight year old Tommy with his head stuck between the iron railings, unable to move until the fire brigade came to cut him free. Saoirse's uninhibited laughter soon had Arthur and John in fits of it again.

"I'll never forget the fucking look on your face, Tom, when you realised you couldn't get your head back out again," Arthur was belly laughing, wiping at his eyes.

"I'll never forget the look on Mum's face," John smirked.

"What on earth possessed you to stick your head through the railing?" Saoirse asked him, her face pink from laughing so much.

Tommy took one look at her face and for a moment was struck by just how beautiful she was. She was always beautiful. It pained him to admit that she occupied his mind a lot more than she should have. He found himself watching her throughout the day; the way she scrunched up her nose when she was concentrating or the way she would gather up her hair and drape it over one shoulder when she was nervous. He found himself entranced by every little thing she did; but the thing that took his breath away the most was when she laughed. It was like music to his ears. It wasn't a gentle or delicate giggle. It was loud and full of mischief.

"Arthur bet me that I couldn't do it," Tommy grinned back, remembering the day well. "So of course I had to prove him wrong."

"Well that didn't exactly go to plan, did it?" John snorted.

"In my defence, I was young and stupid," Tommy shrugged. "I didn't think about the fact that my ears would get stuck when I tried to pull my head back out."

"No wonder they got stuck," Arthur stood up and pulled Tommy's ear playfully. "They're fucking huge, you ugly fucker. I'm surprised Mum managed to give birth to you with ears like those."

"Aw leave his ears alone," Saoirse spoke before she realised, pouting at Arthur. "I think they're perfectly lovely ears."

"See," Tommy tilted his head at Arthur. "Saoirse thinks my ears are lovely."

"What about my ears, Saoirse?" John leant back so his head was on the desk, and he fluttered his eyelashes up playfully at the secretary.

"Yours are lovely too, John," she grinned, pinching his nose. "Now would you kindly remove yourself from my desk before the amount of grease in your hair ruins all my paperwork."

Arthur guffawed loudly as John sat up with a pretend sulk on. "Come on, brother," he slung an arm around John's shoulder. "We've got work to do."

"I'm glad you remembered," Tommy eyed them drolly, a hint of amusement playing on his face. "Now stop distracting my secretary, will you?"

"She's just so much fun to distract though," John commented.

"Distract her on your own time, then."

"I would if she would agree to come out for a drink with us," John pulled on his cap. "But she's always rushing off home instead."

"Perhaps she doesn't want to be seen out in public with you, John," Tommy raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. "Can't say I blame her. Now go on, disappear, eh?"

"Alright, I know when I'm not wanted," John shook his head, before winking at Saoirse. "See ya later, Saoirse."

"Bye sweetheart," Arthur slapped a sloppy, wet kiss to her cheek garnering another chuckle from her.

"So I've got perfectly lovely ears, eh?" Tommy murmured, sitting down on the desk and taking a drag of his cigarette once his brothers had left.

"Oh shut up," Saoirse blushed, biting her lip to stop herself from smiling. Tommy swallowed at that simple action. She didn't even realise the effect she had on him.

"Is that any way to speak to your boss?" Tommy tutted. "But it's alright because you can get yourself back into my good books quite easily."

"Oh yeah?" Saoirse smirked.

"Mm-hmm," Tommy nodded. "I've got some delicate paperwork that needs sorting for tomorrow. There's quite a lot of it, and if you stay late tonight I'll be willing to pay you double your usual hourly rate."

"So you're going to pay me double to get into your good books again? Who can refuse an offer like that?"

"What can I say?" Tommy grinned. "I'm a very generous boss."

Saoirse grinned back and took a sip of her tea, eyes warm eyes meeting Tommy's over the rim. "I'll need to let Joe know I won't be home until late."

And just like that, the fizzle between them popped at the mention of Joe's name. Tommy stood up and nodded.

"I'll have someone get a message to him," Tommy informed her curtly. "Just write down whatever you need to and I'll make sure it gets there."

"Thank you," Saoirse smiled, confused by the abrupt change in Tommy's mood.

She should have been used to it by now; it was a normal occurrence. Perhaps if she was a little more observant she would have realised that it usually always came down to some sort of mention of her boyfriend.

As Tommy disappeared into his office, the door slamming shut behind him, Saoirse took out a piece of paper to write Joe a note.

Things with Joe had been much improved lately. True to his word, he hadn't so much as laid a finger in anger on Saoirse since the day he had split her lip open. His touches were only ones of love, and only when she wanted them. He had been sweet and kind, bringing her little presents home on the nights he worked late. Everything had gone back to normal… So why was it that she couldn't let go of the doubt inside her mind? Why was it that she couldn't quite allow herself to behave as she had before? Sure, on the surface she smiled and kissed him. But deep down inside of her, it felt hollow. She wanted desperately to forgive him; to let go of the inner grudge she gripped tight hold of, yet for some inexplicable reason she couldn't. She found herself on her guard around him; nervous to say the wrong thing in case it set him off. Nervous that she would say the wrong thing that would bring about that cold look in his eyes and make him use his strength against her. It was an exhausting façade to keep up. Not only around Joe but also around others as well.

She knew that the Shelbys had an inkling as to the truth of her facial injuries that day, but not one of them had openly said it. Instead, they looked at her with sadness or concern. Polly constantly asked if she was alright and other vaguely direct questions. Arthur, bless his soul, had bonded with her in such a way that he would constantly remind her that family wasn't necessarily blood. And therefore, she was family now. For the girl with no family of her own, it meant everything. But even the girl with no family knew that in front of them her façade couldn't crumble. Smile and pretend everything was just fine. Just smile.

She had a feeling Joe wouldn't be happy that she was working late and with such short notice, so she made sure to promise to make it up to him. She promised that they would spend the next evening together and go to the pictures and for dinner. A few weeks ago, she would have tried to make it up to him in a different way, but that had changed. For some reason, whenever Saoirse and Joe were intimate it just didn't feel the same. She found herself internally cringing and no matter how much effort Joe put into making her feel good, she never found her release. Not that Joe had commented on it. Perhaps he hadn't noticed. Every time it happened, Saoirse told herself that it was just because she needed to build up that trust with him again and it couldn't happen overnight. Yes. That was it. Wasn't it?

….

Saoirse licked her fingers; unaware of azure eyes watching her actions intently. It was six o'clock and Tommy had sent Finn to the chip shop to get some dinner for him and Saoirse before they began their work. Tommy most likely would have worked without eating, but he wouldn't expect that of his secretary.

"What?" Saoirse looked up and met Tommy's gaze.

"Nothing," Tommy shook his head. "It's just I've never seen someone picking at the scraps like that."

"You are joking, right?" she frowned, scraping up the crispy scraps on the newspaper. "They're the best bit."

"If you say so," Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"Thomas Shelby, I'm disappointed in you," Saoirse sighed and shook her head disapprovingly. "But if you're not having the rest of yours then would it be completely rude of me to commandeer them?"

"Be my guest," he smirked, sliding his newspaper cone over to her side of the desk.

"Well isn't this cosy?" a voice said from the open doorway.

Saoirse looked up at Joe and plastered a smile on her face. A smile that wobbled slightly when she saw the venomous look in his eye.

"I thought you were meant to be working?" he walked towards her, his eyes flickering momentarily at Tommy who did nothing more than lean back in his chair.

"Well yeah we are," Saoirse nodded, wiping her hands on her skirt. "But we were just having some dinner."

"Oh right?" Joe pulled a face.

"That is ok isn't it?" Saoirse probed, tilting her head slightly as she stood up.

"Of course it is, darling," Joe smiled, cupping her cheek gently. "You don't need to ask my permission, do you?"

"No, no I know that," she said letting out an internal sigh of relief that she hadn't upset him. "I just realised that I've left you without anything for your dinner and I'm here stuffing my face with chips."

"I'm a grown man. I think I can cook myself some dinner, love," he smirked. "But I do need the key to get into the flat. I left mine at home this morning."

"Oh right," Saoirse nodded. "I'll just go and get it for you now. My bag's in the other room, I won't be a minute."

As she disappeared, the two men eyed each other, not feeling the need to hide their dislike for the other now they were alone.

"I don't know what game you're playing at pal, but it won't work," Joe hissed.

"What do you mean?" Tommy smirked, lifting his cigarette to his lips.

"Don't act dumb with me," Joe spat. "I know what kind of a man you are."

"See that's funny," Tommy waved his cigarette at Joe. "I'm a bad man. But I've never put my hands on a woman I claim to love."

"What happens in my house is my business and not yours."

"That's where you're wrong. I make everything in this city my business."

"Listen to me, you fucking dirty pikey, you stop whatever it is you're doing with her and you won't have to worry about watching your back, will you?"

"Is that a threat, Mr Murray?" Tommy leaned forward, his eyes ice cold on Joe's. "I don't do too well with threats. Unlike that girl out there, I always fight back."

"Got them," Saoirse's chirpy voice prevented Joe from launching himself across the desk and wiping that smug look off of Thomas Shelby's face. "They were buried at the bottom of my bag but I found them eventually." She looked between the two of them, unable to miss the obvious tension. "Is everything alright in here?"

"Fine," Joe stretched a tight smile across his face. "Mr Shelby and I were just having a little chat is all."

"And I look forward to continuing it another time, Mr Murray."

"Likewise. Well I'd best be off," Joe turned his attention to Saoirse and kissed her soundly on the lips, pulling her close and holding her tight even as he felt her trying to push away. Watching the display that was obviously for his benefit, Tommy clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the jealously and unbridled anger swirling around his chest. When Joe eventually let go of Saoirse, she stumbled back and put a hand to her lips, her cheeks blushing with embarrassment. "See you later beautiful," Joe said. "Oh and darling? I wouldn't be eating too many of those there chips else you'll be complaining that your clothes don't fit, won't you? I noticed you already had to take out that grey dress of yours. Good job you're handy with a needle and thread, eh?"

Saoirse opened her mouth and closed it again, not really knowing exactly how to respond to that comment. As Joe's footsteps disappeared, she sat down in her chair once again and stared at papers in front of her. She blinked as the words began to blur. She refused to cry. Not in front of Tommy, and not about Joe. She just didn't understand what would possess him to say such a horrid thing and in front of someone. And not just any someone but her boss of all people.

Clearing her throat, Saoirse excused herself under the premise of going to the washroom. When she returned a few minutes later, Tommy did his best to pretend he couldn't see the red under her eyes.

"Right, shall we crack on then?" she smiled brightly. But it was too bright. It was the same bright smile his mother used to plaster on her face when she was desperate to prove to herself and everyone else that she was fine.

Tommy hated feeling helpless, and that's exactly how he felt about this whole situation. When he had first gone to Polly about the cut on Saoirse's lip all those weeks ago, he and his brother had been ready to give the man a taste of his own medicine and more. But Polly had correctly, and rather annoyingly, pointed out that if they did that the only ran the risk of Joe and Saoirse fleeing. At least if they kept an eye out for the foreseeable future, they could monitor the situation and gain her trust.

As it had turned out, they had yet to see a single mark on her. But neither of them had been convinced that was the end of it. A man like that didn't hit a woman once. And as Tommy himself had witnessed both today and in the Garrison, Joe wasn't averse to talking down to her in public. So how would he talk to her when they were alone?

Tommy was unable to focus on the papers before him. His mind was ticking like a wound up clock, until he couldn't stand it any longer.

"What exactly do you fucking see in him?"

Saoirse looked up and just frowned at him.

"Joe?" he clarified. "Why are you with him?"

"I… I don't think that's really any of your business," she sputtered.

"Humour me."

Saoirse shook her head and was at a total loss for words. "You know what? I think I should go. I'll come back early in the morning and finish this off and you don't even have to pay me."

Pushing back from her chair, she scrambled towards the door, ignoring the papers that slipped from the table after her. But Tommy somehow managed to reach the doorway a split second before her and essentially blocked her way out.

"I asked you a question."

Saoirse looked up, and found herself suddenly afraid. Tommy most have seen it in her eyes because his face immediately softened.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "It's just… I don't understand it. You could have your pick of men yet you're happy to lump yourself with him."

"Like I said, it's none of your business," Saoirse answered quietly. "But if you really want to know then I'm with him because he's kind and sweet and he loves me."

Tommy let out a dry laugh. "I didn't think you were stupid, Saoirse."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that," she glowered.

He lifted his hand and Saoirse jerked backwards without thinking.

"I would never hurt you," he murmured, running the back of his hand gently down her cheek; imploring her to believe him. Her eyes held a panicked look, like a wild animal about to dart. But when he cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across her mouth, he watched as her pupils dilated and she let out the smallest gasp.

Tommy couldn't help himself. He had to taste her. Bending his head, he ghosted his lips over hers. He waited for her to pull back, slap him, shove him, but what she did came as a surprise to her as well as him. She wound her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss, moaning when he licked at her lips; opening her mouth to allow him in. Their tongues merged together and when Tommy pulled her close against him, she could feel the hardness of his desire against her. Of their own accord, her hips writhed against it and they both groaned at the friction it created. And that was when it hit her like a bucket of ice cold water. Pushing against his chest, she shoved him away with all might.

"Saoirse," Tommy started.

"Don't," she held up a hand to silence. "That was a mistake."

"Don't say that."

"How can I say anything different?" she cried. "I have a boyfriend who I love and who loves me. I shouldn't have kissed you back. I'm tired and not thinking straight."

"You kissed me back because you were tired?" Tommy let out a laugh. "And that wetness that I know is between your legs right now; is that because of tiredness as well? Hm?"

Without thinking, Saoirse reached up and slapped him across the face. It was rash outlet for the confusion swirling around inside her, and she regretted it almost instantly. But before Tommy could react, she ran. And he let her.


	7. Chapter 7

**I just want to say thank you so so much to everyone who has been reading and leaving comments. It really means a lot!**

**Just a little warning that this chapter does contain some self- harm. **

"Where's Saoirse this morning?" Polly asking, plopping her bag down and unwinding the scarf from around her neck. It was bitterly cold out and the tip of her nose was red. Winter was truly on its way, and the temperature had plummeted over the last few days. There had even been an attempt of snow, but luckily it hadn't yet stuck to the ground.

"Ill," Tommy grunted, not looking up from the paper he was reading over.

If someone had asked him, he would have been unable to recite even one of the words on the page because all he could think about was her. Ever since the previous night when he had felt her responding to his kisses and moaning against his mouth, he had been unable to think about anything else at all.

To say he wasn't surprised she had phoned in supposedly sick was an understatement. Given the way she fled last night, it was to be completely expected. What had surprised him was that she hadn't handed in her notice at the same time. Instead, she simply told Arthur that she would be back in a day or two.

"What's wrong with her?" Polly frowned. "Perhaps I'd best go round there and check she's alright."

"Leave the girl alone, Pol," Tommy grumbled. "Last thing she needs is you fussing around her when she's ill."

"Well, it's not as though she has anyone else to fuss around her, does she?" Polly pursed her lips.

"Dearest aunty of mine, you're forgetting the saint that is Joe, are you not?" Tommy's eyes flicked up momentarily.

Polly grinned. It was blaringly obvious to her just how her nephew felt about Saoirse. Tommy thought he could hide it from everyone, and while perhaps Arthur and John might be ignorant enough to not cotton on, Polly was shrewd and knew differently. She saw the way he watched her when she was talking with one of the others; the way his face lit up ever so slightly when he saw her giggling like a school girl with Ada; the way his head would shoot up when he heard someone mention her name. Tommy liked to think his façade was solid, but Polly saw through it all.

"Hmm, the less said about him the better," Polly muttered.

Tommy agreed with that. What he wouldn't give to wipe that poor excuse of a man from the planet. But until now, he was stuck trying to pretend like just the man's very existence didn't irk him.

"So what's on the agenda for today then?" Polly asked.

"Not much," Tommy muttered. "Got a meeting in town this afternoon and until then I've got a mountain of paperwork that needs signing."

"Aw do you want me to bring out the violins?" Polly smirked.

Tommy glared at her but there wasn't really annoyance behind it. Polly just let out a laugh and was about to head to the safe to count the takings from the day before when Lizzie Stark walked in and headed straight through Tommy's open office door without even knocking.

"Bit early for you to be up and about isn't it?" Tommy shook the match he had just lit his cigarette with until it extinguished. "Thought you'd still be on your back, exhausted from your activities through the night."

"Well you'd know about that wouldn't you, Tommy," Lizzie glared at him. It wasn't that she was even annoyed because she wasn't exactly ashamed of her profession. Money was scarce and a woman had to feed herself somehow. No, what irked Lizzie was that it had been months since Tommy had visited her. "Oh no, my mistake. You always prefer me on my front, don't you?"

"Preferred," he amended, making Lizzie glare with contempt at the smug look on his face.

"Who's warming your bed now? Maybe that nice little secretary you hired?" Lizzie smirked when she saw Tommy's jaw clench ever so slightly. Having known the Shelbys almost all of her life, she knew what made them tick. Each and every one of them. And she knew how to spot the signs that many others didn't. "That's what I thought. That must be why her boyfriend was round at my place last night acting like he had the devil in him."

"What are you talking about, Lizzie?"

Leaning across Tommy's desk to stub out her own cigarette in his ashtray, Lizzie lifted the sleeves of her coat and dress to reveal purple and green marks that looked a lot like fingerprints. Polly reached out a hand and touched them gently.

"He did this to you?" she traced the lines with her fingers before glancing to Tommy in concern.

"A few of the other girls from Madam Serena's said he'd visited there a couple of times and was a bit handsy, but I thought they must be mistaken," Lizzie said, rolling her sleeves back down. "After all, with a pretty young girl waiting at home for him, why would he need to pay for it from someone else? But then I thought to myself, if she's working for you, you've probably got her doing more than going through the books. You've probably got her bent over that desk for another reason."

"That'll do, Lizzie," Polly warned, Tommy's furious gaze mirroring her internal feelings on the matter of Joe.

"Of course," she smiled snarkily. "Wouldn't want to upset Thomas, would we? I should be going anyway. I only came to warn you about whatever his name is. If this is what he does to me, then I'd hate to see what he can do to her."

"John!" Polly shouted, seeing Tommy's nostrils practically flaring as he tried to hold himself together. "Be a love and help Lizzie home will you?"

"Er, alright," John frowned, confused as to why he needed to escort someone home when they lived literally on the next street. But judging by the look on his brother and aunt's faces, it was best not to question it.

"Come on, John," Lizzie took hold of him by the scruff of his collar and winked. "I might even make it worth your while."

John grinned and wriggled the tooth pick in his mouth suggestively. As Lizzie left she made sure to glance back at Tommy, hoping that he would be showing some sort of jealousy at her flirtation with his brother. But he didn't so much as glance in her direction. Instead, he was lent over his desk, looking like he was ready to rip the thing to pieces with his bare hands.

"If he's touched her, I swear to God I'll pull him apart limb by limb," Tommy growled.

"Tommy, you need to calm down," Polly spoke.

"No, I need to go round there."

"Tommy stop," Polly placed a hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me. If you go round there now, all guns blazing, you're only going to frighten her away and potentially drive her into his arms."

"Polly, no offense but I listened and followed through with this plan of yours when she turned up with a split lip," Tommy narrowed his eyes. "Now, I'm doing it my way."

"Thomas," Polly sighed, knowing that there was no way she was going to get him to see reason. "Just… be careful, ok?"

…..….

Saoirse was lying on the couch, her legs dangling over the edge and a cool flannel resting over her eyes. She hadn't slept a wink all night. Joe had been out when she got back to the flat. He'd left a note saying he had nipped out for a few drinks with friends, and she had been glad because it had given her the chance to try and compose herself. She had brushed her teeth four times and scrubbed her body furiously because she was convinced he would be able to smell Tommy on her. But Joe had done nothing more than climb into bed next to her and nuzzle up against her neck before falling asleep quickly. Saoirse had lain in bed all night, listening to the ticking clock and her guilty thoughts. Before she knew it, morning had come and she found herself with the worst headache ever.

She thought that she might try and get some rest today but instead she had done nothing but mope about feeling guilty and sorry for herself. Every time she closed her eyes, she had felt Tommy's body against her own and she was disgusted with herself for enjoying the memory of it.

She jumped when someone started hammering so hard on the front door that she was surprised it didn't come off of its hinges. She sat up and padded down the hallway, grimacing as the thudding did little to ease her throbbing head.

"Alright, keep your hair on, I'm coming," she muttered, unlocking the door.

"Where is he?" Tommy shoved the door open and stepped inside.

"Come in, Tommy, won't you," Saoirse muttered sarcastically as he stomped down the hallway towards the kitchen.

"Where is he?" Tommy growled.

"Who?" Saoirse frowned.

"Joe," Tommy answered, grabbing hold of her and rolling up her sleeves.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" she yanked her arms out of his grasp.

"If he's laid so much as a single finger on you, I'll kill him," Tommy's eyes were furious.

"Tommy, what the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Saoirse, I'm not fucking stupid," Tommy spat, grabbing hold of her once more to inspect her for bruises. "You might think you're so clever trying to cover up what he does to you, but I've got proof now that it's not just you."

"Tommy, I really have no idea what you're talking about," Saoirse was exasperated. She batted his hands away and her eyes blazed furiously. "You burst into my home like a fucking madman, rambling nonsense and pawing at me like you own me. Would you kindly explain just what the hell you think is going on or you can leave?"

"He hasn't hurt you?" Tommy finally realised.

"No," Saoirse shook her head. "And I don't know why you think he would have." _Liar._

Tommy took a moment to compose himself, while Saoirse waited with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised.

"Look I didn't mean to come in here all guns blazing but I was worried about you," he explained calmly. "I think you need to sit down so I can tell you something."

Saoirse eyed him warily, unsure what his game was but she sat down on the worn couch anyway and waited for him to sit at the other end. He pulled out his cigarette case with a questioning look.

"Go ahead," Saoirse nodded.

Tommy pulled out a cigarette and ran it across his mouth before finding a comfortable place for it to rest. At that most mundane of actions, Saoirse found her stomach clenching of its own accord. She didn't know why, but she always found that action be strangely attractive when he did it.

"Lizzie Stark paid me and Polly a visit not long ago," he began. "Do you know who Lizzie Stark is?"

"Of course," Saoirse snorted. She hadn't lived in Small Heath for very long but it was a place where everyone knew everyone, and the local whore was well known. Not that Saoirse had ever seen her. She had only heard her name mentioned. "So what exactly did she want with you _and_ Polly?"

"Well it was me she came to see but Polly just happened to be there."

"Of course," Saoirse smirked, ignoring the pain in her chest at the thought of him with Lizzie Stark. But it just proved that she had done the right thing by ending their kiss last night. Tommy didn't feel anything for her. He was just trying to prove a point to himself that he could have whatever he wanted, even if that meant someone who was unavailable. So why did that thought hurt so much?

"Not like that," Tommy clenched his jaw, seeing the incorrect conclusion she had come to. "She came to see me because she had a customer last night who got a little rough with her and left her bruised."

"And you're telling me this why exactly?"

"Because…" Tommy exhaled and cleared his throat. "...the customer was Joe."

"You're unbelievable," Saoirse was astounded by his sheer audacity.

"Saoirse, -"

-I can't believe you. Is this because of what happened last night? Is this you trying to convince me that Joe's been sleeping with a fucking whore in the hopes that I'll fall throw myself into your arms and beg for a repeat of last night? What the fuck is your game? Why are you doing this?"

"I'm telling you the fucking truth," Tommy roared. "What have I got to earn from lying to you?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I don't know why you're doing this."

"I'm not doing anything. I came here because I was worried about you. I came here because I fucking care about you."

"If you cared about me you wouldn't have kissed me last night," Saoirse whispered, a tear dripping down her cheek.

"And if _you_ didn't care about _me_ you wouldn't have kissed me back."

"That's not fair," Saoirse muttered.

"No?" Tommy raised an eyebrow and edged closer to her. "Because if I remember correctly you weren't exactly fighting me off last night which leads me to believe that you wanted it as much as me. And the only reason you ran off was because you were afraid of how you felt."

"That's not true," Saoirse told him without much conviction.

"So you don't want me to kiss you again?" he murmured, cupping her face and running his thumb along her bottom lip. "Hmm? You're not happy with him Saoirse. You know you're not. _I_ know you're not. Everything might be fine now but that's just how it works. My father was exactly the same. He didn't beat and belittle my mother every day. Not at first anyway. Sometimes it would be weeks in between, and during those in between times he couldn't have been any nicer to her. He was kind and funny and loving. And she always believed that he had changed. But a man that lays his hands on a woman in temper is no man. And he certainly never changes."

"Joe isn't like your father."

"You know that's not true," he said, tracing her cheeks with his thumb; his eyes following the outline of her mouth. "Tell me you don't want me to kiss you, Saoirse."

His face was mere centimetres away from hers. She could feel his smoky breath on her skin; she could feel his warmth. She wanted nothing more than to lean forward and feel his lips against hers. It took every ounce of resolve in her body to push him away.

"No, I don't want this," she lied. Tommy knew she was lying but he didn't press her. "I think you should go."

"If that's what you want."

"It is," she nodded, even as her heart screamed for him to stay.

Standing up, Tommy put his cigarette back in his mouth and straightened his cap upon his head.

"You can lie to yourself, but it will eat you up inside," he said. "I don't proclaim to be a good man, but I would look after you. And I would never lay a fucking hand on you that you didn't want me to."

"Yeah until you grew tired of me and found someone else?" she scoffed.

"If you believe that then you don't know me at all."

"That's the point isn't it," she said sadly. "I don't know you. You're my boss and I thought perhaps my friend. But I see now that even working for you is going to prove impossible."

"What exactly are you saying?" Tommy asked, dread filling him.

"I'm saying that you'll have my letter of resignation on your desk tomorrow," she mumbled, biting her lip; unable to look at him. "I'll work my month notice and then I'll be gone."

"Saoirse, you don't have to do that."

"I think it's for the best."

As Tommy slammed the door behind him, Saoirse crumbled. She put her face in her hands cried. She cried out everything; confusion, guilt, worry. Every emotion whirled around her and she didn't know how to cope. She cried and cried until her eyes were puffy and sore. Then she ran herself a bath and slept fitfully until Joe returned home.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" he asked as she stood over the stove cooking their dinner, clad in her thick woollen dressing gown and slippers. "You look pale."

"I'm alright," she tried to smile. "Just a little tired still."

"Maybe you should stay home tomorrow?" Joe suggested.

"No, I'm going to go in," she turned off the hob and began serving up their dinner. "Actually, there's something I wanted to speak to you about, to do with work."

"Oh aye?"

"Yeah," she nodded, bringing the plates over to the table and sitting down opposite Joe. "I've decided to hand in my notice."

"What?" Joe frowned. "Why? Has that Shelby bastard done something?"

"No!" she shook her head hurriedly. "No, of course not. It's just that I don't really think I'm suited it there. So I've decided to look for something else."

"I thought you loved it there? You're always going on about Arthur this and Polly that. What's changed?"

"Lots of things," Saoirse answered vaguely. "But the longer I'm there, the more I realise it's just not for me. You're not mad are you? I'm going to work my notice and I'll find another job before then, I'm certain of it."

"Of course you will," Joe smiled, barely unable to contain his delight. He had been on his best behaviour for weeks, but once she wasn't under the Shelbys thumbs, he wouldn't have to try as hard to keep his temper in check. "For what it's worth, love, I think you're making the right decision."

Saoirse nodded and picked at her food aimlessly. She couldn't help but feel that she was making the wrong decision, but it was all but done now.

…..….

"What's wrong love?" Joe breathed against her neck, his hand rubbing in determined circles again her core. He had been trying for the past few minutes and getting nowhere.

"Sorry," she grimaced. "I must just be tired."

She didn't know if Joe believed her or not but he didn't comment further. Instead, he licked at her breasts, swirling his tongue around her nipples while his fingers tried to elicit a reaction from her centre. Saoirse tried hard to keep her fists from clenching at the bedsheets; not with passion but with something close to disgust. She couldn't stand the sensation of his tongue against her skin and she felt herself cringing internally.

Suddenly, ice blue eyes and chiselled cheekbones flashed through her mind and before she could stop herself, she imagined it was Tommy licking her and touching her. Her stomach clenched and she heard Joe groan as he finally felt her getting wet for him.

Only it wasn't for him, was it? When he slid inside of her, it wasn't him that she imagined bringing her to her climax. It wasn't his name that she almost screamed as she came apart.

_Tommy._

Her heart and her head chanted his name over and over again like a prayer.

Afterwards, as she lay listening to the ticking of that clock once again, she bit her lip to stop from crying. She and Joe were just going through some problems but once she was away from Thomas Shelby, they would be able to get through it and be happy again.

Wouldn't they?

Even as she tried to convince herself of that, her heart felt hollow.

Just like everything else in her life.

Climbing out of bed, she tiptoed into the kitchen. As she held the serrated knife in her hands, she felt guilt but also eager anticipation at the same time. She pressed the tip of the cold metal to the skin of her inner forearm and closed her eyes. She gritted her teeth as tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes. She willed herself not to do it. She tried to remind herself that this wouldn't fix anything. But that was a lie. It wouldn't fix the problem, but it would provide her with relief; an outlet for even just a few minutes.

She hissed as the metal bit into her skin when she moved the knife across her arm, revelling in the pain it brought. Her heart was thudding wildly as she opened her eyes and watched the crimson blood that oozed out of the wound.

And then came the shame; the disgust that she had done this to herself. But sometimes in her head, she was that same young girl living in an orphanage who spent her life trying to hide her feelings from the world.

Rolling down the sleeve of her dressing gown, she promised herself that she would never do it again. And in that moment she really meant it. But as she climbed back into bed, she knew that she throbbing of her arm was easier to bare than that of her wounded heart.

There would never be a last time.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Thank you so so much to everyone who has been reading, favouriting, following and commenting. You're all awesome x_**

_Three weeks later_

"Well, what do you think?

Saoirse looked in the mirror and forced herself to smile, hoping it looked more genuine than it felt. Inside she wanted to cry. She was desperate to stamp her feet like a child, and shout and bawl. Her hair. Her beautiful hair, which had once touched her lower back was nothing more than a messy pile on the floor.

She caught Joe's reflection as he stood behind her and brushed his hand against her neck, fingering the auburn locks that now barely only kissed the top of her shoulders.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked him hesitantly.

"Much better," he murmured approvingly.

Saoirse swallowed the lump in her throat. _It's only hair_, she reminded herself. But it was more than that really; to her anyway. At St Bernadette's, the nuns had forced her to keep her hair short just like all of the other children to prevent outbreaks of head lice and such. Therefore, the day she had left with her tiny bag bearing only one change of clothes and a battered old bible, she had decided that she would grow it out and never ever cut it again unless _she_ chose to. Years later as she now stared at it all on the floor through tear blurred eyes she realised that it hurt more than she thought it ever would.

She tried not to grimace as Joe ran his fingers through the now shorter tendrils. She hated him for doing this to her, even though he hadn't exactly done anything. So why did she feel like this was all his doing then?

_"__Do you not think you should do something else with your hair?" Joe had commented over breakfast one morning._

_"__What's wrong with my hair?" Saoirse frowned, fingering the long braid she had draped over one shoulder._

_"__Nothing," Joe muttered, taking a bite out of his toast as his eyes roamed over the newspaper in front of him._

_"__Well something's obviously not right with it otherwise you wouldn't have said anything," Saoirse answered._

_"__It's just that… Well, do you not think it's a little babyish to wear it like that?"_

_"__Babyish?"_

_"__Yeah," Joe nodded innocently, meeting her eyes. "I mean, it's so long and not really in keeping with fashion, is it?"_

_"__I didn't realise you were so interest in fashion?" she challenged slightly._

_"__I never said I was," Joe muttered. "But I have eyes and I can see that every girl your age around here wouldn't be caught dead with their hair like that."_

_"__Since when do you care about everyone else and how they wear their hair?"_

_"__I don't," he shrugged. "But I do care about you. Do you think I want you looking like a laughing stock? And what about once you start interviewing for new jobs?"_

_"__Joe, I appreciate your concern, but I hardly think a prospective employer is going to hire me based on whether or not my hair meets the latest fashion," Saoirse scoffed._

_"__Aye, but if they were to put you and someone else together, they're going to choose the person who seems the most mature, aren't they?" he explained. "And I'm just saying that you look like a little girl with your hair like that."_

_"__You've never complained about it before," Saoirse grumbled, unable to stop herself from feeling somewhat upset at his hurtful words._

_"__Aw, don't get upset love," he took her hand and squeezed it gently. "I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. I just care about you and I want the best for you. Listen, you have your hair however you like. You're always beautiful to me."_

She had nodded and insisted that she was fine, but his words had stuck with her for days until finally she decided that he was right. And besides, leaving Shelby Ltd in the search of something new was a fresh change, and perhaps a fresh style would help rid her of demons she didn't wish to hold onto.

Which is how she had now come to be stood in front of the living room mirror, staring at herself while Joe paid the hairdresser.

When the door closed and Joe appeared once more, she turned to face him. As his eyes scanned over her new hair again, she took in the approval and delight in his face and realised that this was a tiny sacrifice to make. In fact, she was being selfish in wanting to blame him when all he had done was try to help her. Cutting her hair was nothing in the grand scheme of things; not if it helped to mend their relationship.

….

The next morning, Saoirse sat at her desk feeling self-conscious as Scudboat and a few of the others nodded their hello's to her. Not one of them commented on her hair; not that she expected them to, and truthfully she was greatly relieved that they didn't. She had tried to clip it up into a sort of bun when she got up but Joe had assured her it looked lovely how it was and so she had left it down. But the whole way to work, she felt totally self-conscious about it. If she could have left her hat on all day she would have.

"Well, well, look at you."

Saoirse looked up as Arthur whistled and perched himself on the edge of her desk. His twinkling eyes took in her new hair with appreciation. "What made you go for the chop then?"

"I just fancied a change," she shrugged, grimacing at the well meant attention. She tucked a strand behind her ear and put her head down to focus on the ledger in front of her.

"Well, I think it looks gorgeous, love," Arthur smiled. "You could pass for one of those actresses in the films. Don't you think Tommy?"

"Huh?" Tommy frowned. He had just walked in quietly through the door and was feeling the unsavoury after effects of the bottle of whisky he had drank the previous night.

"Our Saoirse's hair," Arthur nodded towards her. "Doesn't she look a right treat? We'll be fighting off the punters tomorrow when they come in to place their bets."

Tommy looked at her, but it was as though he was looking right through her. There was nothing his eyes except coldness. He made a noncommittal noise and headed into his office without giving either of them another glance.

Saoirse swallowed the lump in her throat. She was hurt and she didn't even know why. What did she expect? Arthur must have sensed her upset because he placed a hand on her shoulder and tilted his head sympathetically.

"You alright?" he murmured.

"Of course," she nodded and cleared her throat, fixing a wide grin onto her face. "But I have got a mountain of paperwork that needs doing before lunch so…"

"So fuck off?" Arthur grinned back, squeezing her shoulder before standing up. "What are we gonna do without you around here? Who's gonna keep all the paperwork sorted and up to date?"

"The new secretary," she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

"Yeah but if they're like the one we had before you, they were dire," Arthur replied.

"Wasn't Ada doing all the paperwork before I came here?" Saoirse looked up and frowned.

"Exactly," Arthur snorted. "Which is why you can't leave. We need you. Tommy needs you. If nothing more than to keep his fucking paperwork in order."

"Oh wow, when you put it like that, how can a girl refuse?" Saoirse smirked.

"Well, its's not just that," Arthur put his arm around her and squeezed her into his side. "I'm gonna miss seeing your bloody face every day, aren't I?"

Arthur wanted to add that she had become an important person in his life. He wanted to add that she had become an important person in all of their lives, and most of all in Tommy's life. But he had a feeling she already knew that, and he was certain that was the reason she was going.

"Well I'm not leaving Small Heath," she smiled back at him, resting her head against him momentarily. "Luckily for you, you'll still get to catch a glimpse of me every now and then I'm sure."

"Thank fuck for that, eh?"

….…

"Enter."

Tommy looked up and tried not to react when Saoirse stepped through the office door just before lunchtime.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely. One could say it was almost a little frostily.

But ever since the day Saoirse had handed in her notice in, their relationship had turned icy cold. They communicated only about work and only when necessary; usually with one word answers to strained questions. Everyone had noticed but no one had dared comment. Even Polly had wisely kept her mouth shut after Tommy had told her Saoirse was leaving. She had tried to talk to him about what had happened when he went round to Saoirse's flat but he had launched the glass of whisky in his hands at the door behind her head and she had dropped the subject. Almost three weeks had passed and Tommy's attitude still hadn't changed.

"I need you to sign these papers so I can get them out with the afternoon post."

She slid the papers towards him and stood silently, watching as he began looking them over.

"Are you going to just stand there staring?" he raised his eyes. "Or are you going to find some actual work to do?"

She ground her teeth to prevent herself from making a rude remark back. It wasn't that she was afraid of offending him with her words, it was simply that she didn't have the energy for it. He had made it clear that now he wasn't going to get what he wanted from her, that she was worthless to him. And it tore her heart to pieces. No matter how much she tried to lie to herself and him; tried to convince them both that she had no desire to be with him, she just couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to give in. What it would be like to find herself nestled in the safety of his arms; to find herself in a relationship where she felt loved and cared for. But even if she wasn't with Joe, these last few weeks had proved to her that she would never have that with Tommy. The caring words he had spoken to her were lies and in a way, she supposed she should be grateful to have discovered that now before she committed herself to him and allowed him to destroy her heart even more.

Even as she thought that though, there was a tiny part of her that wondered if she was the one destroying her own heart and possibly Tommy's in the process? What if this cold façade was merely just a front to cover up his own anguish? She almost laughed out loud. As if Tommy Shelby would waste his time being upset over someone like her. She was nothing, especially to a man who could have anything.

"I'll just go and wait outside then," she said finally.

She felt Tommy's eyes follow her to the door but as she was about to step through it, he said something that surprised her.

"What on earth possessed you to cut your hair like that?"

"Excuse me?" she sputtered angrily.

"You heard me," he murmured. "I'm just wondering you see, because I once heard you tell Ada that you would never cut it unless you were forced to. You told her that the orphanage used to make you cut it, and that keeping it as long as you did was a 'fuck you' to them. So who made you cut it, Saoirse?"

Saoirse opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again. She swallowed. It was true; she'd had that exact conversation with Ada not long after she'd started. Ada had been admiring Saoirse's long curls and had questioned why she didn't have it cut shorter like most other girls. She hadn't even known Tommy had been listening, let alone that he would have remembered such a trivial conversation.

"Nobody made me cut it," she said quietly.

"Interesting," in a tone that sounded anything but interested.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he shrugged.

"Obviously it means something, so why don't you just tell me whatever it is you're so fucking desperate to say?" she folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

"Alright then," he put his pen down and leaned forward in his chair. "I'm going to hazard a guess that this new look of yours has something to do with that pathetic excuse of a man you call a fiancé."

"You really are a piece of work, Thomas Shelby," she scoffed, shaking her head.

"So it wasn't anything to do with him then?"

"For your information, it was," she nodded, squaring her shoulders. "And I'm glad he suggested it because I happen to love it. Sometimes change is good."

"Sometimes it is," Tommy nodded, an infuriatingly smug look plastered upon his face. "But this wasn't, was it?"

"You're making no sense," she sighed in annoyance. "Just sign the papers so I can get on with my work, please, Mr Shelby."

"Mr Shelby, is it now?"

Tommy looked at Saoirse; really looked at her and all he wanted to do was get up from his desk and take her in his arms. He had spent most of the morning watching her through the crack of the open door. Every time he had looked up, she had been fiddling nervously with her hair and the look on her face had eaten him up inside. She looked so self-conscious...and sad. Over the past few months, he had noticed that whenever she was concentrating she would chew on her hair. He wasn't sure whether she even knew she did it or not. But the look on her face over the morning when she had reached for a lock of that fiery hair only to find it too short to grab at, she had looked so forlorn. And he had known instantly that this wasn't her own doing.

"I'll be at my desk," she fixed him with a cold stare, one that equally matched his. "If you shout me when the papers are signed, I'll come back for them."

She slammed the office door shut behind her and Tommy let out a growl before flinging them angrily from the table. He slammed his fist down and let out a sigh.

She could have had every single hair on her head cut off and he would have still thought her to be the most beautiful human being on the earth. She was more than her outer beauty; she radiated from the inside. Or at least she had when she had first stepped into his office all those weeks ago.

Now she was becoming nothing more than a shell of herself, and killed Tommy to see her bright light slowly dimming.

….

"Brr."

Saoirse shivered as she pushed open the front door. With cold hands she lit the fire and sat in front of it with her coat on, letting the flaming tendrils warm her from head to toe. She must have nodded off because when she awoke some time later, it was pitch black and the fire had long burned out.

She fumbled around in the dark to light the lantern and when she saw the time on the clock, she found herself panicking that Joe wasn't home yet. It was almost nine. She lit the fire again and hung her coat up on the peg, and bustled about trying to rustle something up for dinner.

Perhaps Joe was just working late and had lost track of time?

When she heard the key turning in the front door only moments later, she let out a sigh of relief.

"Hello love," Joe smiled. "Bit dark in here isn't it?"

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"I went for a few drinks after work," he pushed past her and headed into the bedroom.

"Do you not think you could have let me know?" she followed him. "I was worried about you and I had no idea where you were."

"I've just told you, I was out for a few drinks," he repeated as he began to strip off his clothes. "I didn't realise I had to inform you of my every move. I took a piss in an alley on the way home, do you need to know which one?"

"That's not fair," she tried to reason with him. "I just meant that you could have at least sent a message so I would have known you were alright."

"Saoirse, I'm not going to argue with you," he stalked towards her, his eyes boring into hers. She stepped back as he approached and when her back met with the cold wall, she felt herself begin to panic. He had that same look in his eyes that he'd had when he had hit her. She shouldn't have said anything. She shouldn't have wound him up. Her heart was pounding ten to the dozen and she glanced around nervously, looking for a way out. When he lifted a hand, she flinched visibly and his face blanched somewhat. Gently, he reached out and traced the back of his hand down her cheek and then down to her neck. It travelled further down until his hand rested against her wildly beating heart. "Are you afraid of me, Saoirse?"

"No," she whispered.

"I would never hurt you," he murmured, his eyes taking in her trembling lips. He bent down and kissed her sweetly before looking at her with a sort of sad look. "I'm upset that you would think that of me. Haven't I proven how sorry I am for last time? Haven't I proven that I would never do it again?"

She nodded, feeling ashamed of herself for her reaction. He looked genuinely hurt and she realised she had done that to him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, taking his hand and squeezing it, before bringing it to her lips to kiss. "I really am."

"I know," Joe murmured. "But we can't get past this if you're going to keep doubting me."

"It won't happen again," she promised.

Satisfied with her answer, Joe nodded and backed away. "I'm going for a bath," he smiled. "Why don't you get us some dinner ready?"

Feeling foolish, Saoirse waited for him to leave the room before letting out a breath. She walked over to the bed where Joe's clothes were in a pile in the middle of it. Trying to ease the tremble in her body, she began to fold the clothes to give herself something to focus on.

When she noticed a mark on the collar of Joe's top, she shook her head. It was clean on this morning, and she had no idea how he always managed to get his clothes so dirty. She could understand if it was black grease from work, but this was red. She thought perhaps it could have been blood, but upon closer inspection she recognised it as something else. Lipstick. It was lipstick. Lifting the shirt to her nose she inhaled the overpowering scent of lavender perfume. Suddenly Tommy's words from that day in the flat came back to her.

No. There was a simple explanation for this. There had to be.

"Joe, what's this?" she walked calmly into the living room where Joe had filled up the tin bath in front of the fire.

Part of her was afraid to ask, because she was worried that in spite of his reassurances he might find himself angered enough to lash out at her for asking. But another part of her, a larger part, was terrified that Tommy had been telling the truth and she needed to know one way or another.

She thrust the lipstick stain in front of his face and waited.

At first Joe said nothing. In fact, he barely reacted. "It's lipstick, I think," he finally replied.

"I can see that. But why is it on your clothes? And why do you not seem surprised?"

"It's a simple explanation really," he answered casually. "There was a girl in the pub who had a bit much to drink and she was trying it on with everyone. She tried to kiss me and I moved away but she was so drunk she fell into me. Poor girl was steaming. In the end, I took her home because I was worried someone would take advantage of the lass."

Saoirse wanted to believe his explanation. She really did. It was a perfectly plausible story. So why did it leave her with a strange feeling in her stomach?

She sighed. This was ridiculous. She didn't know who or what she could trust anymore. Everything was just too confusing. All she wanted was for things to go back to the way they were before moving to Small Heath.

She felt as though nothing was ever going to go back to normal again.


	9. Chapter 9

"You're wearing that?" Joe raised his eyebrows as Saoirse applied a light coat of lipstick in the mirror.

"Yeah, why?" she frowned, looking down at the plum coloured shift dress she had donned for the occasion.

Today had been her final day working for Shelby Ltd, and Ada and Polly had invited her out for a drink to bid her farewell and wish her good luck in her new ventures. They had assured her it would only be the three of them and that it wouldn't be a late one. She had of course been unable to refuse, and she hadn't wanted to. Polly and Ada were two women that she truly counted as friends and she was going to miss seeing them on a daily basis.

In truth, she had expected Joe to have something to say about it when she had hesitantly ran it by him a few days prior. However, he had completely surprised her by expressing his delight at her going out and having some fun with her girlfriends.

Not for one moment did it occur to her that with her gone, he could go out wherever he wanted without needing to give her an explanation. And after she had discovered the lipstick stain on his shirt the previous week, he knew he needed to be a little more careful. Joe loved Saoirse. Truly, he did. But he had never really been a one woman kind of man. And he found that it was easier to control his temper around Saoirse when he could let it out in other ways. Or on other women. And it just so happened that when you paid a whore enough money, she would let you do whatever you pleased. And if she didn't, he would do it anyway.

"Oh nothing, love," Joe shook his head. "I just think it looks a little tight around the middle that's all."

"Well, it feels fine," Saoirse mumbled, smoothing the material over her flat stomach. She swung her arms around as though to prove the point.

"As long as you feel comfortable then that's all that matters, isn't it?" he smiled at her.

Self-doubt gnawed at her and she chewed on her lip, wondering if she should go and change.

"That navy dress always looks lovely on you," Joe suggested as though reading her thoughts.

Saoirse screwed up her face. The navy dress was more of a day dress and rather shapeless in style. She didn't really think it was a going out dress, but she also knew that if she didn't leave imminently she was going to be late. She didn't have time to rifle through her drawers looking for something else; at least not without trying everything on to see if she felt comfortable in it. With both her own mind and time against her, she hurried to change into the navy dress.

"I'll see you later," she grabbed her bag and ran to the front door.

"Hang on a minute, speedy," Joe caught up with her. He put an arm around her waist and kissed her soundly. Saoirse forced herself to relax into the kiss, and when pulled back he wiped at her mouth with his thumb until the lipstick she had applied was all gone. "Beautiful," he murmured with a small smile. "You don't need that crap on your face. You're perfect as you are."

She gave him a sort of smile back and then she was gone.

….

The Garrison was bustling, which was usual for a Friday night. As Saoirse stepped through the door, Harry shouted to her from the bar.

"Polly and Ada are in the snug waiting for you," he told her. "There's a bottle of whisky waiting in there for you as well."

"A whole bottle?" Saoirse grinned. "I don't think I'll be needing it all to myself."

"Perhaps you will, perhaps you won't," Harry commented, wiping down the bar top. "You're only young once. Live a little, eh?"

"When I've got the hangover from hell tomorrow, I'll remind you of that," Saoirse chuckled, knocking on the snug door before pushing it open.

"Surprise!"

Saoirse gasped and put a hand to her chest as she took in the crowd of people packed tightly together in the small room. She took in the familiar smiling faces; Ada, Polly, John, Arthur, Scudboat, Jeremiah and all of the other Peakys. Even little Finn was nestled in the corner with a bottle of pop.

"What's all this?" she muttered, allowing herself to be pulled into the middle of the throng.

"What do you think it is?" Ada grinned, handing her a tumbler of amber coloured whiskey.

"You didn't think we were going to leave without a proper celebration, did you?" Arthur grinned, putting his arm around her shoulder. He was already drunk; she could tell by the look in his eyes as well as the fact that he stunk of rum.

"You little horrors," Saoirse grinned back, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, making him blush in delight. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about this."

"Oh yeah," Ada snorted.

"We knew if we told you, you would never have come," Polly smiled and kissed Saoirse on the cheek.

What Polly didn't say out loud was that the reason Saoirse wouldn't have come was because Joe would have found a way to make her feel bad. Especially if he knew that it was more than just Polly and Ada with her. He was clever. He wouldn't have flat out told her she couldn't come. He would have planted just a tiny seed of guilt in her mind and then watched it blossom with just a little coaxing.

Polly hated the man. She would have wished a curse upon had she not wanted for it come back on her threefold. It was plain to see that the girl was miserable. Yet she continued to lie and pretend to the world that she was fine. When really the only person that would have made her happy was the other one behaving like he had not a care in the world.

She had invited Tommy; told him it was only proper for him to be there, seeing as she was his employee. But as expected he had given her some cock and bull story as to why he couldn't attend. Knowing her nephew as he did, he was probably sat at home with a face like thunder, nursing a bottle of whisky.

"But now you're here, you've got to promise you're not going to try and run off as soon as our backs are turned."

"I promise," Saoirse smiled. She couldn't believe they had done this for little old her. She was so happy and felt so cared for, but in the same breath she wished that she would be returning on Monday morning to see their friendly faces. As such, she was going nowhere. She'd had no luck on the job front yet, despite the politely detached yet glowing reference Tommy had provided her with.

Part of her felt guilty that Joe thought she would be having a quiet night with only Polly and Ada, when in reality she was surrounded by all the people she had come to know since working for the Shelbys. Another part of her was afraid that Joe would somehow find out and punish her. _No,_ she told herself. _He loves you and he wouldn't do that. Not again. He promised._

She was released suddenly from her thoughts when John grabbed hold of her by the hand.

"Come on, I insist that you have at least one dance with me," he winked, twirling her around playfully.

"Oi and don't forget me," Arthur called out from across the room, where he was pouring himself another drink. "If John's getting a dance then I need at least two to beat him."

Saoirse grinned as John pulled her close and began to manoeuvre her through the group of people, shoving them when they didn't move fast enough. She told herself that she would just stay for a few drinks and a couple of dances. After all, it would be rude not to and she was certain Joe would understand. Especially once he knew that Tommy wasn't there. Saoirse had searched all around the room for him, but it was evident that he was missing. She supposed it was for the best. But as John span her around again, practically flinging her into Arthur's waiting arms, she wished the smiling face staring down at her was the only Shelby brother who wasn't there.

….…

The night air was refreshingly cold. Saoirse leant against the wall by the alleyway next to the Garrison and put a hand to her flushed cheeks. It was nearing midnight and she knew she ought to be getting home. She had stepped outside for a breather and to allow herself a few moments to compose herself before going back in to bid everyone a good night. The thought made her want to cry.

"You not enjoying your party?"

Saoirse looked up and saw Tommy stepping into the alleyway towards her. Her breath was caught in her throat as the soft glow from his cigarette illuminated his sharp cheekbones and soft, plump lips. She wished she didn't know just how soft those lips were. She wished she didn't long to feel them pressed against her own again and again.

"Polly said you had business," she murmured as he stopped in front of her. "Or was that just an excuse?"

"Would it matter if it was?" Tommy threw the cigarette on the floor and stamped it out with the toe of his shiny, black shoe.

"I just thought…"

"You thought what?" Tommy tilted his head to look at her. "That I would laugh and smile with the rest of them and wish you good luck with your fucking future?"

"I…"

"That I would pretend that I can cope with not seeing the grin that crosses your face when Arthur brings you a pastry from the bakery in the morning, or the way you scrunch up your nose when you're going through the books. That I would pretend I can cope with not walking past you and smelling the scent of roses that doesn't come from your perfume, but just from you," he stepped closer pressing himself against her body. "Do you think I can sit in there, in front of all those fucking people and pretend that the thought of not seeing you again doesn't kill me inside? I'm Thomas fucking Shelby. I'm not supposed to give a fuck. Yet, if I go in there, they'll all know won't they?" he rasped, grabbing her by the face. His heart was surging through his chest.

"Stop," Saoirse let out a sob.

"I can't," he shook his head vehemently. "Don't you understand? I can't fucking stop because I need you."

"Tommy," she begged, putting a hand over one of his, her bottom lip trembling. "Please don't do this."

"Do what?" he murmured, peering into her eyes, hoping he could lose himself in them forever. "Tell you how I feel? Tell you how you _make_ me feel?"

"Look at me like that," she whispered. "You look at me like I mean something, Tommy; like I'm worth something."

"That's because you fucking are," his thumb brushed her cheek, catching the tears that fell. "You're worth everything, and I wish you could see that. I wish you would let me show you that."

And that was when it hit her. She wanted him to show her. She wanted him and only him. Standing up on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips against his, clutching at his coat. Tommy kissed her back desperately as though she was the oxygen he needed to breathe. His hands were in her hair, on her face, caressing her gently while his tongue delved inside her mouth desperate to mingle with her own. They were frantic, kissing as though this would be the last ever time. Her back met with the cold stone wall and when Tommy slid a hand up her skirt she arched backwards, silently begging him for more.

"No," he broke away suddenly, panting as he pressed his forehead against hers. "Not here. Not like this."

He took her hand and led her through the deserted streets to Watery Lane, and she didn't even look back.

….

Tommy's sparsely furnished box bedroom was cold, the fire not having been lit, but the second Tommy put his arms around her she was warm instantly. Her coat fell to the floor with a soft thud followed by her dress. As Tommy divested her of it, she recalled Joe and how adamant he had been for her to wear it. She wanted to feel guilt that she was here now allowing another man to take it off. But all she could feel was Tommy and nothing else. He kissed her gently as he pulled down the straps of her slip until it puddled to the ground at her feet. His softly trailing hands left goose bumps along her milky white skin and he captured her lips gently with his own. Her brassiere was flung away next and Tommy picked her up and lay her down gently on the bed before removing the last of her underwear, until she was completely bare before him.

She lifted her arms to try and cover herself but Tommy shook his head and he hurriedly stripped himself of his own clothes. He lay down beside her in only his boxers, his hands wandering over every inch of her skin.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, cupping her cheek and kissing her sweetly.

He kissed her jaw, moving around to her neck; biting and sucking just hard enough to make her sigh. He was terrified to hurt her, even accidentally. This was the toughest test of self-control he'd ever faced. He wanted nothing more than lift her legs over his fucking shoulders and drive himself right to the hilt. But he wasn't going to do that. He was going to savour this; savour her. She deserved gentleness and care and that's what she was going to get. Even if it fucking killed him in the process.

He palmed her full breasts, dipping his head to tongue the nipples that were straining not only from the cold air but from want of him as well. She gasped and arched her neck, whispering his name, clutching at his hair. He sucked her nipples, grazing them ever so lightly with his teeth making her moan and tug his hair harder.

When he kissed his way down her stomach, she let out a breath as the frigid air hit the saliva he had left at her breasts, making it feel like he was still touching her there. But he wasn't. Not now.

The second she felt his tongue against her core, she gripped the bed sheets for dear life, unable to process just how good he felt. He spread her folds apart with his hands and plunged his tongue inside, groaning at how wet she already was for him; groaning at the taste of her. His thumb pressed against her clit and she squirmed against his face as his tongue swirled around inside her, lapping up every bit of her.

Tommy looked up to see her back arched and her hands clutching desperately at the sheets and he swore he could have come just from the sight of that alone. That image of her would be burned into his brain for the rest of time.

Her thighs either side of his head were trembling as she was nearing her climax already but Tommy wasn't ready for that. Not yet. He nipped at the inside of a thigh while his thumb lightened on her clit until he was barely touching.

"Tommy," she begged, her voice cracking with desperation.

"Hmm," he murmured against her, sending jolts through her.

"Please," she panted, feeling him grin against her.

His tongue plunged inside her once more as he pinched her clit gently between his thumb and forefinger. He groaned as he heard her cry out and she tensed around him. He licked and sucked, drawing her orgasm out, never wanting it to end.

Without giving her time to come down from her high, he ripped off his boxers and nudged his hips between her legs.

"You sure you want this?" he whispered, kissing her cheek as the tip of him rubbed against her.

She nodded and lifted herself up slightly to kiss him. He grinned against her mouth and hissed as he eased himself inside of her slowly. Saoirse shifted to accommodate him, digging her nails into his shoulders as he moved about inside of her. He grabbed one of her thighs, lifting her leg to wrap it around his hip as he began to thrust rhythmically.

"Tommy," she murmured, raising her hips to meet his thrusts.

His hands were all over her, his mouth was kissing her; their breaths one the same as their bodies. Tommy brushed the hair back from her face, wanting to see her beautiful face as she bit her lip in anguished delight.

Her own hands roamed the expanse of his back, clawing when he changed the angle to hit her right where she needed him the most.

"Fuck," he groaned, feeling her breaking apart once again around him.

Taking her hands, he entwined his fingers with her own, squeezing them gently as he pressed his forehead against hers. This was better than anything his pathetic imagination had tried to conjure up. Usually sex was just an act for him; a release. He remembered once overhearing his mother and Polly talking about the difference between having sex and making love. He had hurriedly scarpered before they realised he was there, but it was only years later that realised he had never himself discovered the difference. He had never before been with a woman with the sole intent of being close to her and showing his… dare he say love?... for her.

But now he understood completely. This right now was more than a physical act. This was the joining of not only two bodies, but two hearts and two souls. And he was damned he was ever going to allow them to be separated now. She was his forever. In this act, he had freed his heart of any remaining stubborn binds and he was now chained to her irrevocably for the rest of his days on earth.

That thought was enough to tip him over the edge. He climaxed with a groan, never even thinking for a second to pull out of her, moving his hips slightly as his warm seed spilled inside of her.

"I love you," he murmured, rubbing his nose against hers, as they both lay panting.

Saoirse's eyes opened wide and she thought she had misheard him. Until he repeated it.

"You don't have to say that," she whispered, cupping his cheek, relishing the feel of their bodies pressed against one another still.

"I know," he smirked, his eyes tracing her own intently. "But you should know something about me. I never say anything I don't mean."

When she smiled, her entire face lit up and he could once again see the girl that had first walked into his office those months back. She wasn't gone. She was still there, waiting for someone to remind her of who she was.

"Saoirse O'Reilly, I love you," he pecked her lips. "And if you'll have me, I'll never leave your side."

**To the people who have been commenting- this one is for you! I'm warning you- this is the smut you've all been waiting for! Enjoy! **

"I love you too," she breathed, her heart so full of joy that she thought it might burst. "And I want to be with you as well."

In her joy it didn't even occur to her that she was promising something to Tommy when she was still tied to another man.

A man who was never going to let her go without a fight.


	10. Chapter 10

**Seriously, I know I always say this but every comment and favourite/follow I get means the absolute world to me. **

**WARNING: I just wanted to say that this does contain a scene of violent rape. **

Saoirse closed her eyes and smiled contently, relishing the feel of strong arms wrapped around her waist. Tommy kissed her shoulder and nuzzled his chin against her neck, making her giggle as she felt the bristles of his stubble against her sensitive skin. His hands wandered the length of her waist, cupping her bottom before moving back up to play languidly with her breasts. She sighed when she felt him grow hard against her and when his hand slipped down to play with her already highly stimulated clit she bit her lip and turned her head to kiss him.

Smiling against her, his tongue snaked inside her mouth, dancing gently with her own as he slid himself inside her. Unlike their previous love making, which had been full of pent up passion and the need to mark each other and finally be together, this was different. It was no less an expression of their feelings, but it was gentle and unhurried. It was the embers of their previous fire still burning out slowly.

From this angle, Tommy could touch every part of her. Moving inside of her in an agonisingly delicious way, without speed or demand, Tommy caught sight of something in the gentle candlelight. His thumb traced along the reddened criss-cross of a healing wound and he felt Saoirse stiffen against him. She turned her face away with shame, but he pulled it back towards him gently and kissed her so sweetly that she could have cried.

"I'm not gonna tell you this is wrong," he whispered against her mouth. "You do what you need to survive. We all do. But from now on, I do the surviving for both of us. I take the pain for both of us. I'm never going to let you feel it again."

He took her arm and kissed the scar, as well as the others he could now see; the faint silver lines marring her skin. He kissed them as he moved inside of her, his lips touching everyone as though he could heal them and take them away. He remembered the day he heard her telling Arthur about them, but seeing them for himself made his throat clench tightly. He was never going to let her feel like that again.

It didn't take very long for either of them to find their release and afterwards as they lay together, it felt as though this was the way it had always been.

"I need to go home," Saoirse spoke quietly some time later.

Tommy leaned up on his elbow to peer down her, and she could read the confusion and hurt on his face.

"Not forever," she smiled, cupping his cheek and rubbing her thumb along it. "I'm going to pack up my stuff and tell Joe I'm leaving. I'll find a room for a few nights and take it from there."

"You'll stay right here in this house; in this room with me if you want to?" Tommy spoke with a firm gentleness. "And you're not going anywhere near that poor excuse of a man. I'll have John or Arthur go round for your stuff in the morning."

"No," she shook her head, sitting up with the sheet pulled up against her chest. "I don't expect you to understand or even like it, but _I _want to do it. _I_ want to be the one to tell him. I need him to understand why I'm going, because while my feelings for him were gone some time ago, I don't want any other woman to experience this. Perhaps if he understands why I'm leaving, he will think about changing his ways?"

"After the life you've had, how is it you can still be so naïve?" Tommy sat up and shook his head incredulously. "Men like him don't change, Saoirse."

"Maybe they do, maybe they don't. But at least I'll know I've tried to spare someone else what he's done to me. It's funny," she let out a little humourless laugh. "I convinced myself that he really loved me, and I think in his own way he probably does. But no matter how much he's tried to show me he's changed, I can't forget."

"If someone split open my lip, I don't think I'd forget either," Tommy murmured, his face suddenly enveloped in a cloud smoke as he lit himself a cigarette.

Saoirse just looked at him but didn't say anything. She knew that Tommy had guessed the truth; that all the Shelbys had, but she still didn't want to confirm it out loud.

"It was only once," she found herself suddenly admitting. "That was the only time he ever hit me and he couldn't have been more sorry afterwards."

"They always are," Tommy commented. "At first anyway."

_"__You know I love you, don't you?" his father held out the red roses to his mother. All Tommy could think about was that the colour of the flowers was the same as the blood that had poured from his mother's nose only hours before. "And you know I don't mean to hurt you. I just can't stop myself."_

_"__I know," his mother nodded, her eyes full of love for the man who made her cry more times than he ever made her smile. "I love you too."_

_But the kind words and loving embraces didn't last. Neither did the empty promises wrapped up in bundles of crimson roses._

Saoirse's hand on his arm broke him out of his thoughts. Her beautiful face was like the sunshine through parting clouds.

"Sorry," he mumbled, clearing his throat. "Listen, I understand why you want to end things with him yourself but do you really think he will react rationally when he finds out what we've done?"

"Who said I was going to tell him about us?" Saoirse frowned.

Tommy snarled and shook his head.

"I don't think you're being very fair," Saoirse looked at him sadly, climbing out of bed to begin dressing herself. "I don't have to tell him about us because it's none of his business. Once I leave that place, nothing I do will ever be his business again."

"I know, I'm sorry," Tommy's eyes warmed upon hers. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached out for her, pulling her stand in between in his legs. "I'm coming with you though. I'll wait outside, ok?"

"No you won't," she shook her head firmly. "You're going to wait here and keep this bed warm for me."

"I said, I'm coming with you."

"Tommy," Saoirse put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. "I fell out of love with Joe because he tried to control everything I did. If you think I'm going to allow you to do the same then you're sorely mistaken."

Tommy sighed and rubbed his face wearily before putting his arms around her waist, burying his face in the soft skin of her stomach.

"Alright," he agreed reluctantly. "One hour. If you're not back in one hour, I'm coming to get you."

….

The flat was quiet as Saoirse carefully opened the door; grimacing when it creaked. She closed it shut behind her and kicked off her shoes to pad quietly down the hallway. Joe would be fast asleep in the bedroom and she wasn't entirely sure of the best way to go about this. Maybe she shouldn't have agreed to Tommy coming back in an hour. It perhaps would have been better for her to let Joe sleep and in the morning just come right out with it. Well, there was no going back now and no changing the plan. She decided to go into the bedroom and begin packing up her stuff as quickly as possible. Joe was a heavy sleeper so he wouldn't wake up anyway until she shook him awake. But before heading into the bedroom, she took a detour to the living room.

As she had kissed goodbye to Tommy at his front door, he had reassured her for the fifth time that she looked fine, but she was still completely paranoid that she looked like someone who had been having sex. She was completely paranoid that Joe would take one look at her and know immediately what she had been doing and with whom.

Standing in front of the living room mirror, she patted down her already smooth hair and peered at her face for any signs of well, _anything_. But there was nothing different about this reflection to the one that had stood in this same mirror only hours ago. Apart from the glint of happiness that had appeared in those green eyes once more; the glint that had been dull for weeks on end.

"This is a funny eleven o'clock."

"Joe," she gasped, putting a hand to her chest as his reflection suddenly appeared behind hers in the mirror. "What are you doing?"

"I was waiting for you," he answered, his eyes boring into hers through the glass. "Did you have a good night?"

"Yeah," she nodded, feeling herself tremble slightly as the back of his hand ran lightly down her cheek, brushing the soft skin there. "It was alright."

"Just alright," his hand stilled. "I think we both know it was more than alright don't we?"

Without warning, his hand clamped around her face and he dragged across the room, flinging her onto the floor. She knocked her head on the corner of the coffee table and tried to scramble away from him but he grabbed her by the ankles and yanked her towards him.

"Joe, please," she sobbed as he ripped open the front of her dress, pawing at her slip and tearing at her underwear.

"Joe please," he mocked with a sneer, his fingers delving inside of her while she tried desperately to kick him away. She clawed at him, scratching his face but he easily subdued her with his free hand, restraining her wrists above her head and squeezing. "Is that what you said to that fucker when he had his hands all over you? Did you beg him like you the fucking slut you are?"

"No," she shook her head desperately. "We didn't… nothing happened… please."

"I saw you!" he roared, slapping her so hard around the face that she could see stars. Her head was spinning and she could hear the clunk of his belt as he pulled down his trousers. She thrashed her head from side to side, sobbing, screaming; praying with everything she had inside of her that he would stop. He pushed inside of her hard and she cried out in pain. "I. Saw. You." He punctuated each word with a thrust. "In that alleyway, kissing him. I saw you leave. So don't you dare fucking lie to me, you little bitch."

Saoirse closed her eyes as he pounded into her mercilessly. She could feel bile rising in her throat. She had never felt so helpless in her life as she felt him rutting against her, his disgusting breath against her breasts, licking and sucking.

"Please," she let out a sob.

"Open your fucking eyes and look at me," Joe squeezed her face. "Look at me!"

She did. Even through the stream of tears falling from her eyes, she could see him angry and red on top of her; his hatred pouring out of him and into her.

"You look at me and you tell me how much you fucking want this you little slut," he spat in her face, the glob of saliva sitting on her cheek, mingling with her salty tears.

"Please," she choked out, swallowing the bile in her mouth as his skin slapped against her own with a sickening squelch.

"Yeah you like that don't you?" he sneered in her face. "Oh sweet little Saoirse, what a terrible life she's had. Such a terrible childhood. Would everyone feel so sorry for you now if they knew what a little whore you are, eh? Do you fuck everyone you work for darling? Or is just him? Either way it doesn't matter cos he's not gonna want you now, is he? You're just a convenience for him; something to sink his fucking cock into just like you are for me."

He grabbed her by the hair, tugging at it making her sob even more as he came inside her with a grunt. She could feel his hot seed spilling inside her and down her thighs and she leaned over and vomited.

"Look at the fucking state of you," Joe tutted, pulling up his trousers and kneeling down in front of her face. She was on her side, clutching at the tattered remains of her clothes. "Pathetic." He pulled her up by the hair forcing her to meet his manically furious eyes.

When she didn't reply he chuckled; a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her days. It was unhinged. She felt cold metal against her throat and when she looked down in horror to see a penknife against her jugular, she began to struggle in Joe's grasp.

"Aw don't worry, love," Joe smirked evilly. "Death's far too good a punishment for you."

He kissed her hard, forcing his tongue into her mouth before slicing her cheek with the knife in his hand; the sharp blade running from just underneath her eye and all the way down to her chin. Saoirse screamed and clutched at her face, which felt like it was burning. Blood dripped out from in between her fingers as Joe did nothing more than stand up to loom over her with a simultaneous delight and disgust upon his face.

"No one's going to want you now, are they?" he smirked. "Especially not your fucking Shelby."

As Saoirse lay on the floor, trying to scramble up from the floor, her hands never left her face. It felt like she was on fire and her throat cracked from screaming.

Suddenly Joe kicked her with his heavy boots in the stomach once, twice. And that was when everything turned black.


	11. Chapter 11

The house was deathly quiet. Finn was tucked up in bed; Arthur and John were out with the boys hunting like blood hounds, while Polly and Ada were upstairs overseeing the doctor as he went about trying to fix the broken girl upstairs. And she was broken. In every sense of the word.

Since the war, Tommy had believed that the longest period of time was that of a soldier's minute. Yet he'd had to endure sixty of those in the wait for her to return. When she didn't come back, he knew. But nothing had prepared him for the sight of her on that floor. Swallowing down the bile in his throat, Tommy closed his eyes, desperate for it to leave him. It was imprinted into his mind; he could almost smell the acrid stench as it seared itself onto his brain.

He had picked her up and carried home, kicking the front door in, yelling for a doctor while his family gathered around him in various states of distress and concern. Arthur and John didn't need to be told what to do. The desire for vengeance was second nature and they tore through the night destroying everything in their path along the way.

Polly had been insistent that Saoirse needed the hospital, but Tommy's arms had remained around her; his eyes numb. In the end, he had agreed for the doctor to come, and even then they'd had to prise her from his grip. He couldn't let her go. How could he let her go?

And even now as he sat at the table, surrounded by the silence which allowed his mind to wander in the dark shadows, all he could think about was his mother and how he had been forced to let go of her all those years ago. He remembered his aunt Pol physically pulling him from the room, telling him that his mother needed to rest. She had sent him out to Charlie's yard to brush that white pony his mother had brought back from her trip to Worcester only two weeks before.

He had stroked that pure white coat with a small smile upon his face, certain that such a creature was an omen of positive change. His mother would get better. She smiled sometimes. She hadn't done that in so long. But it had been whilst lost in those happy imaginings that he had heard the hurried footsteps running into the stable. He had looked at Charlie's face and something inside of his heart had frozen over for good.

He couldn't remember the last thing he said to her. Had he even said anything? All he could remember was the feeling of her hands; always so soft and gentle despite her years of toil as they stroked his hair back from his face. She had hummed him a tune; a song about fairies and far off lands. He was too old for stories like that then. He had no belief in a better life, but for those few minutes he had allowed himself to pretend. When Polly had told him to leave, his mother hadn't even reacted. She had continued to look out of the window, humming the melody that would haunt her son for the rest of his days.

"Thomas," Polly's voice broke him from his thoughts.

He glanced up, terrified that the next words to come out of her mouth would break his heart; the heart that the girl upstairs had started to heal without him even realising it.

"She's asleep," Polly sat down at the table and took his hand. She squeezed and rubbed it soothingly, seeing where his thoughts lay. "She's going to be alright."

Tommy nodded, barely. She was going to be alright. She wasn't leaving him like everyone else had. His mother; Greta; even his fucking waste of space of a father. She wasn't going anywhere. So why did he feel like he'd lost her anyway?

"Tommy, did you hear me?"

"Yeah," he croaked out, pushing his chair back across the wooden floor.

"Where are you going?" Polly asked as he headed for the stairs. "Thomas, she's sleeping. Leave her."

Whether he heard her or not, Tommy Shelby would do as he wanted. Always had and always would.

….

Tommy pushed open the door and swallowed. Her breathing was deep and even, and he didn't even know how he made to the bed; how he came to be on his knees beside her. Only hours ago, he had made love to her right here in this very bed, and now her bruised and battered body was resting in it.

A bandage covered her face and Tommy clenched his jaw when he thought about what lay underneath it. Her beautiful face. That fucking monster. Tommy pulled back the blanket to see her lay in one of Ada's nightgowns, her arms and legs covered in marks and bruises. Lifting it, he saw the fingerprints on her thighs and he wanted to cry. When he'd seen the state of her lying on that floor, bleeding and her clothes torn, her underwear down around her ankles, he had immediately understood what had happened. But the more time he had to process it, the worse it became. Did she cry? Did she beg him to stop? Did she fight?

When Tommy got hold of that fucking pathetic excuse of a man, he was going to tear him limb by limb. There weren't enough ways to hurt him, and Tommy wasn't even sure that he was going to feel any resolution upon killing the bastard. But kill him he would. For Saoirse he would make sure of it.

….

It was the early hours of the morning when Arthur and John returned, their faces grim.

"He's gone," Arthur sighed.

"Like a fucking ghost," John spat. "Disappeared without a fucking trace."

"Tommy won't be happy," Polly stirred her tea absentmindedly. It was the third cup she'd made since the doctor had left yet each one had remained untouched.

"How is she?" Arthur sat down and rubbed his face wearily.

"As well as can be expected," Polly shrugged. "She's sleeping now. Tommy's up there with her. He's terrified to be apart from her, I can see it in his eyes. I just can't believe what that animal did to her."

Tears slid down Polly's cheeks and she didn't bother wiping them away. Her heart physically hurt for the girl lying upstairs. Polly had sent Ada out of the bedroom when the doctor had begun the examination and it revealed Polly's worst fear which was that Saoirse had not only been beaten but raped as well. Then there was her face.

"We'll help her through this, Pol," Arthur patted her shoulder, his eyes misty. "She's family now."

"I hope that's enough, Arthur. I just hope that's enough."

Before anyone could say another word, there was the sound of screaming coming from upstairs and a loud thud. The three of them raced up the staircase and into the bedroom where Saoirse was in a huddle in the corner of the room, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"I didn't do anything," Tommy held his hands up. "I fell asleep next to her and suddenly she was clawing at me and shouting. I tried to calm her down but it's like she didn't even realise it was me."

"Saoirse," Polly edged towards her. She reached out a hand to touch Saoirse's arm and the girl flinched. "Saoirse, sweetheart, it's me. It's Pol."

Saoirse looked up and blinked. Her face crumpled as she realised where she was and that she was safe. She threw herself at Polly and broke down into sobs, clutching desperately at Polly's dressing gown.

"It's alright, love," Polly stroked her back and kissed the top of her head. "I've got you. It's alright."

"I was so scared, Pol," Saoirse wailed.

"I know, darling. But he's not going to get anywhere near you again, I promise. You're safe here."

Tommy could do nothing but watch in horror as Saoirse broke apart in Polly's arms. He wanted to be the one holding her and comforting her. But when he had gone near her, she had looked at him as though he was the one who had hurt her and she it broke his heart.

….

Saoirse opened her eyes and blinked. Everything felt so heavy. Everything hurt. She turned her head to the side and saw Tommy asleep in a chair beside the bed. His hair had fallen down over his eyes and he was hunched at the most uncomfortable angle.

For a moment, Saoirse didn't remember. And then it came back, hitting her like a freight train. She reached up to feel her face and sobbed when her fingers met with the crepe of the bandage.

"Saoirse?" Tommy croaked, sitting up and his spine clicking as he stretched himself out like a cat.

"Is it bad?" she asked him, her fingers running the length of the dressing.

Everything inside of Tommy wanted to lie to her but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She deserved the truth. But before he could try to find a way to explain it without upsetting her, she spoke.

"I want to see it," she decided.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Tommy sighed. "The doctor has stitched it and it's healing. You don't want to take the dressing off until he says it's alright."

"I want to see it," she repeated through gritted teeth. "You can either bring me a mirror or I'll go and find one."

"Wait there," Tommy sighed. He didn't want her getting out of bed in her state. She needed to rest, but he also could see the determination in her eyes. She wasn't going to let it go.

When he returned a few minutes later, Saoirse was sat up. She was trying to peel at the bandage but Tommy pushed her hands away gently.

"Let me, eh?" he murmured.

Reluctantly, she nodded, allowing him to uncover the wound slowly. Even though he was being as careful as he could, it still was so sore. Tommy sat back in the armchair when he was done, unsure of what to say or do next; a rather alien feeling for him. He watched as, with shaking hands, Saoirse picked up the mirror and braced herself to look in it. When she finally did so, he was disturbed by the blank expression on her face. He had expected tears or anger, but there was nothing.

"Saoirse?" he spoke.

"Will you go?" she whispered dully.

Tommy reached out for her but she flinched. "We'll get you the best doctors money can buy," he spoke fervently. "We'll go to London or even fucking America if we have to."

"Please go," she begged quietly.

Clenching his jaw and fighting the urge to hold her in his arms, Tommy got up and walked slowly to the door. As he closed it behind him, he glanced back quickly to find she hadn't even moved a muscle. Tommy had never felt quite so hopeless in all of his life.

Saoirse was numb. She looked at her face and didn't know how to feel. The angry welt was red and although it had been stitched neatly, it was a monstrosity. No matter how many fancy doctors she saw, nobody was going to be able to fix this. She was ruined forever; just like Joe had wanted. She closed her eyes and for a second she could feel the cold steel of that knife tearing through her skin again. Her chest felt tight and she couldn't breathe. The room was spinning and she felt like she was going to vomit. With a scream, she launched the mirror across the room and it shattered into tiny pieces, as she broke down in tears.

Out on the landing, Tommy sat on the top step with his head in his hands. It took everything he had inside of him not to burst in through that bedroom and try and take her pain away, but she had asked to be alone and he had to abide by her wishes.

So instead he sat there and allowed himself to cry. He didn't even feel ashamed by it. But as he cried he made himself a promise. He would fix her in every way; in all the ways he couldn't fix his mum. He wasn't going to let this defeat her. He needed her and he would look after her forever. Whether she wanted him to or not.


	12. Chapter 12

"Oh that's healing nicely," the doctor nodded approvingly once he had removed the final stitch from Saoirse's face. "No weeping, no signs of infection. Yes, that's looking lovely indeed."

"Yeah, lovely," Saoirse gritted her teeth and muttered sarcastically.

"Forgive my poor choice in words," the doctor looked up apologetically. "I just meant that-"

"-I know what you meant," Saoirse interrupted. "Are you done now?"

"Uh yes," the doctor quickly recovered from her rude behaviour. "I'll be back to check on you in a day or two. In the meantime, it would do you and that wound some good to get out in a little fresh air if you can."

"What's the point?" Saoirse's eyes flicked up angrily at him. "The coming back, I mean. What do you need to come back for? No amount of prodding and poking at this," she pointed to her face. "Is going to make it disappear, is it? Save yourself the time and effort, and don't bother coming back because there's really no need."

The doctors eyes flickered nervously towards Polly who tried to convey her apologies with her own eyes.

"What are you looking at her for?" Saoirse frowned. "I'm the patient not her. And if I don't want you to come back then that's my choice, no?"

"Of course," the doctor nodded with an attempt at a smile upon his weathered face. "If you change your mind, you know you can always call for me, don't you?"

Saoirse did nothing but stare at the wall behind his head.

"I'll see myself out," he mumbled.

"You can go too, Polly," Saoirse muttered once the doctor had closed the door behind him.

Polly let out something akin to a laugh but it wasn't laced with even the slightest tinge of humour.

"You might think it's alright to boss the doctor around but you won't boss me around," she said. "And not in my own bloody house."

"Well I want to be alone," Saoirse folded her arms stubbornly.

"And I want all the gold in china," Polly snapped, before pinching her nose and letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper, but I'm worried about you, love. You've had yourself holed up in this bedroom for over two weeks now. You won't have the curtains open, you won't come out, you won't let anyone in. We're all worried, Saoirse," Polly sat down on the edge of the bed, her head tilted empathetically towards the young woman. "Tommy's been going stir crazy wanting to see you. Don't you think it's about time you let him in?"

"No," Saoirse shook her head, her eyes filling with tears that she refused to spill in front of Polly. "I don't want to see him; I've told you that. I tell him that every morning and every night when he knocks on this fucking door. I just want to be left alone, Polly."

"But you're not going to get better if you keep shutting everyone out," Polly reached over to touch Saoirse's hand, squeezing it lightly. "You need to let us help you."

"Don't tell me what I need," Saoirse spat, yanking her hand out of Polly's grasp. "Just leave me alone, alright? I just want to be alone."

Lying down, Saoirse turned her back to Polly and pulled the thick blanket up over her face. Her face crumpled and silent tears slid down her cheeks, falling onto the pillow that still smelt of Tommy.

She heard Polly leave, pausing at the door before shutting it quietly. It was only once her footsteps began to sound upon the stairs that Saoirse allowed herself to let go. Her entire body shook with the force of her despair and through it all, she wanted the one person she was pushing away the most. But it was for the best. She knew that, and so would he eventually.

….

Dinner was an awkward affair. Tommy pushed his food around the plate, uninterested in eating. Arthur and John were no better. They ate at least, but they were silent. Polly smoked one cigarette after another, seemingly unconcerned by the ash that fell into her stew.

"How was school today, Finn?" Ada asked with mock cheeriness, trying to keep the mood light for the youngest Shelby.

"It was alright," Finn shrugged, reaching for a bread roll from the middle of the table.

"What did you do?"

"Dunno," he mumbled.

"Well you must be able to remember at least one thing," Ada tried again.

"Mickey Hawkins got caned for forgetting his homework," Finn said. "And then he was sick all over Mr Jones' shoes."

"Mr Jones deserves it," Ada smirked. "He was always a right bastard."

"Ada," Polly admonished her use of language in front of Finn.

"What?" Ada asked. "It's true. He always used to have it in for me. I blame John."

"What have I got to do with it?" John frowned.

"Because you were awful to him before I started school, so he immediately decided that because I was your sister I was going to be trouble."

"Yeah and instead you were a fucking goody two shoes," John smirked.

"That's what you think," Ada grinned. "I just never got caught."

Abruptly, Tommy stood up and pushed his chair back.

"You've not finished your dinner," Polly commented, even as her own lay mostly untouched.

"I'm not hungry," Tommy cleared his throat. "I'm going to bed."

Climbing the stairs, all Tommy could think about was the fact that Joe was still out there somewhere. They'd been looking for him for over two weeks now and it was like the man had vanished into thin air. Tommy had contacts across various parts of the country, including Scotland, looking for him, but every possible lead eventually fizzled out into nothing.

Reaching his bedroom door, he paused outside, holding his breath for a few moments before knocking. As expected, there was no answer.

"Saoirse," he tried again, turning the door handle. The door wouldn't budge. It was locked from the inside. "Saoirse, are you awake?"

"Go away, Tommy," he heard her muffled voice. She sounded so dejected and so bitter.

"Please let me in," he begged, his voice cracking.

Silence. That silence was worse than hearing her refuse. That silence said more than words ever could. He'd only just gotten her and then lost her again in the same night. As time passed, Tommy didn't think he was ever going to get her back. Polly had said Saoirse just needed time, but as one day became another and then another, it became clear that wasn't the case.

Tommy didn't understand. Did she blame him somehow? That thought ate at him day and night. Did she hate him because he hadn't yet found Joe? There were a million questions spinning around his mind and the only person who could answer them was the person who refused to so much as look at him.

He let his hand linger on the door for a few moments before finally walking away to the spare bedroom, where he felt like a spare part in his own home.

….

Another week passed and Saoirse still refused to leave the confines of the bedroom. She allowed Polly in only at mealtimes, and to bring water in for her to wash with numerous times each day. Tommy was becoming more and more irate with everyone; snapping at the slightest thing they said. Finn had asked for help with his maths homework just the night before and Tommy had exploded. The tension was getting to the entire family and Polly didn't know just how much longer they could go on.

It was morning. Tommy had been gone since the crack of done. Somebody claimed to have seen a man fitting Joe's description in Stoke, and Tommy apparently didn't trust anyone else to check it out so he had gone himself. John was off collecting money from some people who had been using Tommy's distracted mood to get away with not paying what they owed. Ada was… well, who fucking knew where Ada was. She had dropped Finn at school and then claimed to be going out with a friend.

"I really need to get out to the shops," Polly muttered, more to herself than to Arthur who was spooning sugar cube after sugar cube into his tea. It was a rather unknown fact that Arthur Shelby had a very sweet tooth. Always had since childhood.

"What's stopping you?" Arthur asked, stirring the tea, the metal of the spoon clanking against Polly's fine china.

"I don't want to leave Saoirse," Polly sighed.

"Well it's not like she's gonna come out of the bedroom anyway," Arthur commented, slurping his tea loudly.

"She might."

"And I might wake up tomorrow and be the King of England," Arthur answered smartly. "If it makes you feel better, I'll sit right here until you get back."

"Haven't you got things to be doing?" Polly narrowed her eyes at him.

"Not really," Arthur shrugged. "They can wait."

Indecision played in Polly's eyes but eventually she stood up, retrieving her coat and bag. "I'll be as quick as I can," she promised.

Arthur just waved her off, sitting back in his chair and reaching for the newspaper. Polly had been gone for perhaps ten minutes when Arthur heard a bang from Saoirse's bedroom. Hesitantly, he climbed up the stairs. He had long past given up trying to see her, just like everyone else, but he couldn't very well leave her alone now without checking she wasn't hurt.

"Saoirse," he stopped outside the door. "I know you don't wanna talk and I understand, but I heard a bang. Sounded a little bit like a herd of elephants, and I wanted to check you was alright? I'm guessing the bloody noise was you because if not, it must have been a fucking ghost."

He heard shuffling footsteps that stopped on the other side of the door.

"Just let me know you're alright so I don't have to go and call for the priest to come and exorcise the house, eh?"

"I'm ok," her quiet voice sounded through the wood.

"Well that's good," Arthur smiled even though she couldn't see him. "I, uh, I know you told Polly you don't wanna see anyone, and I'm not gonna force you, but if you'll let me, can I sit here and talk to you for a bit? You don't have to say anything back. In fact, maybe I could tell you a story?"

She didn't say anything so he decided to go ahead and do it anyway. Sitting down, he leaned his back against the door and stretched out his long legs.

"Right," he cleared his throat. "I'm going to tell you a story about a girl I know. She's the sweetest thing you've ever seen in your life. She's got hair the colour of fire and a temper to match. She's funny, too; always got a witty remark or a funny joke for any occasion. She's got the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known. Never looks down on anyone or thinks badly of them, even when they deserve it. She's got this way about her that it's like she just knows how to make you feel better. It's not even the fact that she knows all the right words to say; it's just her. She's warm and safe. But the sad thing is that this girl I know, and who I happen to love like she was a sister, has been through something so awful that I can't even begin to imagine it. And as cowardly as that might make me, I don't want to. She's hurting, this girl, and quite fucking rightly too. But in her pain she's cutting off the people that love her. Because it's not just me that loves her; there's a whole fucking lot of us. And there's one person more than all of us put together, even more than me if you can believe that, who would give his last breath for her. That man's as fucking broken as she is, you see. And you know what's so terrible about it? The two of them need each other. She needs him and he needs her; it's that fucking simple."

"He doesn't need her," he heard her murmur softly. "He probably doesn't even want her. Why would he?"

"Of course he wants her," Arthur let out a breath. She was actually talking to him and he wanted to fucking cry. "Saoirse, he fucking loves you."

"No, Arthur," she sniffed. "How can he love me now?"

"What do you mean?" Arthur turned to face the door.

"How can he love me after what Joe did to me?"

"That wasn't your fault, sweetheart," Arthur's voice implored her to understand. "None of that was your fault. You don't honestly believe Tommy would think differently about you because of that?"

"I feel differently about me now," she admitted with a sob. "I feel dirty all the time. Doesn't matter how many times I've washed myself, I can't wash it all away. I can feel him on me when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. And my face… he's ruined me, Arthur. He's ruined me from the inside out and I don't think anyone can fix me. And I don't know if I want them to."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked even though he had a feeling he already knew.

"I want it to go away, Arthur," she sobbed. "I keep thinking about how easy it would be to just end it all. Then I couldn't have to hurt anymore, would I? And soon enough Tommy would forget about me and meet someone who isn't tainted and disfigured."

"You stop that right now," Arthur's voice cracked. "You fucking stop that, do you hear? Tommy needs you. He fucking needs you, Saoirse. _I_ need you, too. You think if you kill yourself it's going to make it all better, but it isn't. Because what if wherever you end up, you still feel the fucking same and only you won't have people to help you?"

"What about my Mum and Dad?" she whispered. "Wherever I go, they'll be waiting for me, won't they? At least that's what everyone told me when they died."

"That's true enough," Arthur's voice was thick with emotion. "But they wouldn't want that for you, would they? They want to see you grow old and have kids and grandkids. If you can't do it for yourself or me or even fucking Tommy, then do it for them, eh?"

Silence.

Arthur swallowed and held his face in his hands. Silence unnerved him; it was oftentimes a dangerous thing.

There was a noise of something being dragged away from the door and then the click of the lock turning. Arthur held his breath as the door handle turned slowly. When the door creaked open, Arthur kept as still as a statue so that he wouldn't startle her into retreating back.

Saoirse stood in the doorway, hesitant and wary. She played with her fingers nervously and chewed her lip. Arthur stepped closer with a warm smile upon his face and held out his arms, silently beckoning her. Bursting into tears, Saoirse threw herself at Arthur, clutching at his shirt as his arm wrapped themselves around her.

"I've got you, love," he kissed the top of her head. "It's alright."

The raw and gut wrenching wails coming from Saoirse pierced Arthur's soul, and he blinked back tears. It physically hurt him to feel her shaking with the force of her emotions. Closing his eyes and resting his chin upon her head, Arthur tried to block out the sight of the cut that ran down the entire length of her cheek. Arthur himself was a fucking animal, but even he found it incomprehensible that a man could do something like that to a woman. His hands clenched subconsciously around her as he imagined inflicting the same amount of damage on the fucker that had done this. He hoped Tommy found him soon because the longer they had to stew on this, the worse it was going to be for Joe. Then again, perhaps that wasn't a bad thing.

Saoirse buried her head against Arthur's chest, relishing in the safety of him. She hadn't realised just how much she needed to feel another human until now. She hadn't realised just how much she needed to feel Tommy until now. She was desperate for him, but at the same time she was terrified.

"When's Tommy home?" she lifted her tear stained face to Arthur.

"Later tonight," Arthur murmured. "He's got business."

Saoirse nodded, letting out a sigh. "Does he hate me?" she asked.

"Of course not," Arthur wiped her face, mindful of her cheek. She flinched nonetheless and he quickly dropped his hand.

"Sorry," she apologised.

"Don't be. You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"I've been awful, haven't I?"

"Sweetheart, you could have been ten times worse and none of us would care. You're one of us and we would do anything for you."

Saoirse nodded, wiping the rest of her tears away. She sniffed and took a deep breath, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, love?"

"I'm tired," she said.

"Alright," Arthur answered. "Get yourself back into bed then, eh?"

"Will you stay?" she asked. "Will you stay with me until Tommy gets back?"

Smiling, Arthur followed her into the bedroom, flinging his suit jacket over the back of the armchair as Saoirse climbed back into bed.

"You sleep and I'll be right here, ok?"

"Arthur?" Saoirse whispered, pulling the covers up to her neck. "Will you hold my hand? Just until I'm asleep?"

When Polly returned half an hour later, she followed the sounds of Arthur's thunderous snoring up the stairs and into Saoirse's bedroom. Pausing at the door, a smile played at her lips at the sight of Arthur fast asleep in the armchair and Saoirse fast asleep in the bed. Her gaze fell to the sight of their arms both slightly outstretched and their hands holding onto one another in slumber.

Who knew what sort of fucking miracle had taken place in the short time she had been gone, but Polly thanked God there and then that things might finally be improving.


	13. Chapter 13

**To the people who have been following, favouriting and commenting; thank you millions! It means everything. Sorry this chapter isn't very long or particularly amazing! **

Tommy returned from Stoke in a foul mood. Yet another dud lead. He slammed the front door shut behind him and flung his coat angrily on the hook. He could hear the family in the front room, eating dinner. Ada was giggling at something John was telling her, and then he heard her.

He burst through the living room door, certain he had imagined hearing her voice. His knees almost buckled when he saw her sat at the table in between Finn and Arthur, a hint of a smile upon her face. She looked up and he saw a flash of unease behind her eyes, but she quickly recovered herself.

"Tommy," Polly stood and smiled. "You hungry?"

Tommy was speechless. He thought about pinching himself just to make sure that this was real. Saoirse hadn't moved. She was just watching him and he her.

"I don't know about you lot, but I reckon I could use a drink," Arthur cleared his throat.

"Oh not tonight," Ada complained. "I'm knackered. Ow what was that for?"

"I didn't do anything," Arthur said innocently, but luckily Ada soon got the hint.

"Actually, I really fancy a drink," she stood suddenly. "Come on Finn, you can even have a shandy."

The Shelbys cleared out quickly, leaving Saoirse and Tommy alone. Neither moved and neither spoke. They just continued to stare at the other as though they were seeing the other person for the first time in their lives.

It was Tommy who opened his mouth to speak first, but Saoirse quickly held up a hand to silence him. She pulled out the chair beside hers and patted it. Hesitantly, Tommy walked over, sitting down only once she had given him an assuring nod. His hands were clenched in his lap and Saoirse reached over gently to take hold of one. Tommy's eyes flickered to hers and she tried to smile.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, a pitiful tear rolling down her cheek.

"What the fuck have you got to be sorry for?" Tommy's voice was thick with pent up emotion.

"I'm sorry for the way I've treated you," she answered. "I just… I know I haven't been fair but the truth is Tommy I haven't cared about anything other than the way I feel."

Tommy didn't say anything. It was obvious she had more to say and he didn't want to interrupt her. He was frightened that if he did, she would seize up again.

"And I was scared that you wouldn't me anymore," she whispered sadly. "I still am."

"You know that's not true though, don't you?" Tommy's thumb rubbed against the back of her hand. "Nothing will ever change how I feel about you, Saoirse."

"I know," she nodded and took a shaky breath. "But surely you can understand why I would have thought that? I mean, you know what he did to me, Tommy. You know that rap-"

She stopped and swallowed the bile in her mouth, unable to finish the sentence. She just couldn't do it.

"Saoirse, I know," Tommy squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I know what he did to you; you don't need to say it. But that wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault."

"And what about this?" she pointed to her face. "You can't tell me that this doesn't bother you? Because it sure as hell bothers me? It makes me feel sick. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror before and wanted to smash it to pieces."

Tommy leaned forwards and gently ran his fingers along the length of the scar upon her face, before pressing his lips against it in a butterfly of a kiss. He pulled back and rubbed his nose against hers.

"You are beautiful," he murmured. "You're beautiful when you're soaking wet from walking to work in the rain; you're beautiful when you're shouting at John for knocking the ink pot all over the ledgers and you're beautiful right now. This," he kissed her scar again. "This doesn't define you; at least not in a bad way. This is an outward representation of just how fucking strong and brave you are. That fucking bastard is going to regret the day he did that to you, because when I find him- and I will fucking find him- I will make him wish he'd never been born. But I don't want you to spend your whole life hating yourself for what he's done to you; I don't want you to be ashamed of looking at yourself. In fact, stand up right now."

Taking her by the hand, Tommy tugged her up and she allowed him to drag her towards the mirror that hung over the fireplace.

"You look in that mirror now and I want you to really look at yourself."

"Tommy," she begged him not to make her.

"Look in the mirror, Saoirse," he was firm yet not unkind.

She looked up and her eyes immediately fell upon the hideous line that marred her face. Tears began to spill before she could stop them and she wanted to cry and scream and ask Tommy what he thought to prove in being so cruel.

Tommy appeared in the reflection behind her and wound his arms around her to rest his chin on her shoulder. His eyes were full of adoration for. Adoration that she didn't deserve but she wanted nonetheless.

"You're looking at yourself and loathing what's staring back at you," he murmured. "I can see it in your eyes. But I want you to look in that mirror every morning and remind yourself that you're alive and you're free of that fucking monster forever. You don't need to tell yourself that you're beautiful because I'll do it for you. I'll do it every day, with God as my fucking witness."

Suddenly Tommy dropped to one knee and Saoirse felt as though the room was spinning. Everything was muffled as her mind tried to comprehend what was happening before her.

"Saoirse O'Reilly, I want to spend every day for the rest of our lives reminding you how perfect you are to me and how much I love you," Tommy spoke vehemently. "I know I'm not doing this right. I don't even have a ring, but I'll get you one; any one you want, just tell me and it's yours."

"Tommy," Saoirse knelt down in front of him and took his face in her hands. "Don't do this. Please don't do this. I don't want you to ask me this out of pity or whatever else this is."

"It's not pity," Tommy shook his head. "When have you ever known me do anything out of pity, eh? If anyone should be taking pity, it's you. Take pity on me because without you, I'm nothing and I need you."

Saoirse was scared. That was an understatement; she was terrified. The last time she had trusted and believed a man who promised to spend eternity loving her, he had ruined her in every way possible. She didn't know how she was supposed to now place her trust in another man who swore to do the same. But this was Tommy. Her Tommy. This was the man who had seen right through Joe from day one and had tried to sway her away from him. This was the man who had waited patiently for the past few weeks while she shut him out and ignored him. Never once had he raised his voice and demanded to see her. Never once had he made her feel anything less than safe and loved, even if she didn't feel that way about herself. If she turned him down now, there was a chance she was giving up the most precious opportunity she would ever have all because of the damage another had done to her. If she turned Tommy down, there would be no going back and Joe would have won, wouldn't he? Hadn't he already taken enough from her?

"Saoirse, I'm not trying to force you into anything you're not ready for," Tommy could sense her inner turmoil. "I just want you to know that everything I say to you is the truth. If you don't want it then I'll accept it and I'll always be here for you regardless. But you have my heart and I don't think anyone else could ever come close to you."

Saoirse thought her heart was going to burst hearing such words coming from Tommy's mouth and she knew there and then she couldn't let him go. She wouldn't let him go.

"I love you," she smiled through her tears, pressing her forehead to his and squeezing her eyes shut. "Yes, I'll marry you."

Tommy smiled against her mouth and kissed her gently, brushing her hair back from her face. He pulled her into his arms and deepened the kiss, but as his knee brushed against her core she stiffened.

"Saoirse?" he questioned, concerned about the paled complexion she had suddenly taken on.

"Sorry," she stood up and he saw her body was trembling. "I just…"

His arms were around her the second she burst into tears and he kissed her head, murmuring softly against her ear. She was shaking and Tommy felt helpless.

"It's alright," he whispered. "It's alright."

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I just can't… the thought of…"

"Hey, hey," he cupped her face. "I won't have any more apologies, do hear me?"

"Yeah but what if I never want… what if I can't-?"

-"Saoirse, love," Tommy smiled, his eyes intense as they sought out her own. "This, us, what we have is more than just being together physically. I don't love you for that; sex and intimacy is just an expression of that but there are other ways to do that."

"Tommy," Saoirse sighed. "You can't go your whole life telling yourself you don't mind not being with me in that way."

"I can and I fucking will," Tommy was adamant. "Because I want you in my life for the rest of my life and nothing will change that."

"I don't know what I've ever done in my life to deserve you, but I don't think you'll ever understand just how much you mean to me."

"Trust me, if it's even an ounce of what you mean to me then I understand completely."

….

The Shelbys were overjoyed when they heard of Tommy and Saoirse's engagement, but none as happy as Arthur who had tears in his eyes upon hearing the news.

"Now you really are gonna be my sister," he smiled, kissing her head and pulling her into a bear hug. "But you were like a sister in my heart anyway."

"Arthur, will you stop saying such sweet things to my wife to be?" Tommy pretended to scowl, slapping Arthur playfully on the back. "You're putting me to shame."

"Well I can't help it if I'm better at it than you," Arthur grinned, winking at Saoirse. "But I wouldn't worry because I don't think any amount of sweet words will make her look at me like she looks at you."

"Then I feel sorry for you," Tommy pushed himself in between Arthur and Saoirse, stroking her face as his eyes glowed with devotion.

For once he didn't care that there were people around, and besides these people were his family; the people he was closest too in the world. He kissed Saoirse soundly, grinning against her mouth when John and Arthur whooped and cheered.

"As sickeningly sweet as you two are," Ada pulled a face as she wedged her way in between them. "I have a wedding to plan with my new sister in law."

"Ada," Tommy scoffed. "We've been engaged less than a few hours; I've not even got her a ring yet and already you're desperate to spend my hard earned money on a wedding."

"Is she not worth it?" Ada raised an eyebrow.

"Of course she is," Tommy smirked.

"Well then," Ada grinned. "You just give us the cheque book and we'll do everything else. What do you say, Saoirse?"

"I don't really want a big wedding," Saoirse shrugged leaving Ada appalled. "I just would prefer something quiet."

"What a disgusting idea," Ada was aghast. "A small wedding? That's a horrific idea."

"I just don't like a big fuss," Saoirse answered honestly.

"But it's your wedding," Ada exclaimed, wide eyed. "It's the one day of your life where you can bask in the attention from everyone. You can dress like a princess and everyone gets to tell you how beautiful you are."

For some reason, those words struck a nerve with Saoirse and she suddenly didn't feel like celebrating anymore. How was anyone going to tell her she was beautiful without it being a barefaced lie?

"Saoirse, are you alright?" Tommy frowned, touching her elbow.

"Yeah," she nodded hurriedly. Too hurriedly, biting on her lip. "I'm just tired. I think I'm going to go up to bed."

She turned and left before anyone could even try and stop her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Tommy hissed at Ada, his eyes cold.

"What have I done?" Ada frowned.

"What have you done?" Tommy shook his head incredulously. "You just couldn't keep your fucking trap shut, could you?"

"Who the fuck are you talking to like that?" Ada snapped.

"I'll talk to you how I fucking want," Tommy saw red and couldn't hold his temper in check any longer.

"Break it up you two," Polly demanded, looking from one of them to the other.

"He started it," Ada said indignantly.

"I don't fucking care," Polly was firm, talking to them as though they were children again. "It's taken a lot of work to get Saoirse down here and talking to everyone again. You need to be careful how you speak to her. She's sensitive at the moment."

"Wouldn't you be fucking sensitive in her shoes?" Tommy spat. "That bastard raped her and cut her and broke her. She's got every fucking right to be sensitive."

"No one's saying she hasn't!" Polly raised her voice to match her obstinate nephew's as she pushed her face into his. "But you know as well as I do that Ada didn't mean to upset her, just like I'm not trying to imply that what she's been through isn't an acceptable reason to be emotional. So jump down off your high fucking horse before you give yourself a bloody nosebleed."

Tommy clenched his jaw in annoyance but refrained from saying anything else despite how difficult it was for him. Polly pursed her lips and eyed him warily, waiting for the smart arsed remark to escape him but when one was not forthcoming she nodded in approval.

"Where are you going?" she asked, as Tommy headed towards the door.

"To see my fucking fiancée."

As his heavy footsteps stomped angrily up the staircase, Polly couldn't help but at smile at the little twinkle in his eye when he had called Saoirse his fiancée. She just hoped that this was enough to bring the pair of them both some happiness, because God knew they deserved it.

Only time would tell.


	14. Chapter 14

_Three weeks later_

_The streets were busy; people were everywhere and their eyes followed her wherever she moved. She knew what they were looking at. They didn't try and hide it as they stared at the scar on her face; their eyes either looking at her with pity or disgust. One woman even shielded her small daughter from Saoirse's face, crossing herself as though she was a demon cast from the burning fires of hell._

_The people around were so many and so close that Saoirse couldn't breathe. It felt as though they were closing in around her and she found herself desperate to escape. Pushing her way through the throng, she ran and ran until her legs could run no more. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was shallow as exertion trickled down her back._

_She walked down an alleyway; grateful for the safety of her solitude. A black cat meowed and she followed it until she reached a dead end where the cat stopped beside an old crate. Peering inside, Saoirse smiled at the five tiny, fluffy kittens huddled together for warmth and yowling with their new found voices._

_"__Are these yours?" she asked the cat, who was clearly their mother for she watched them with such devotion in her eyes._

_Her eyes roamed over the kittens, warmth filling her chest at just how sweet and innocent they were. She decided there and then that she was going to take them all back to Watery Lane. She was certain that Ada would help to look after them, and John's four small children would be delighted at the new pets. The mother cat hissed and Saoirse reached out to stroke her cautiously._

_"__Ssh," she whispered. "You can come too, I promise. I'm not taking them away from you, but it's too cold for you all to stay out here, isn't it?"_

_The cat hissed and her eyes narrowed, but Saoirse realised that the animosity wasn't directed at her. Turning around to see what had the cat so upset, she gasped when she saw him stood there._

_Joe grinned maliciously as he ambled towards her slowly, like a predator hunting its prey. Saoirse was hyperventilating as she stepped backwards, her eyes darting around wildly as she desperately searched for an escape. When her back met with the cold brick wall, she realised she was trapped._

_The man before her said not a word, but the cold glint in his eyes spoke volumes and Saoirse tried to scream as his hands wrapped themselves around her throat. Her eyes bugged and she flailed about helplessly as the world around her slowly started to fade._

_"__Saoirse," a voice spoke from somewhere in the distance._

_It was a voice she recognised and she closed her eyes, waiting for the darkness to take hold so that her body could float towards the sound of the voice she craved to be closer to. It called to her like the sweetest of melodies; like a song of angels in the black abyss._

_"__Saoirse… wake up…Saoirse."_

Saoirse came to with a gasp, clutching desperately at her throat as she struggled to catch her breath. Gentle hands were rubbing back and stroking her hair, and safe arms wrapped around her body while that voice murmured soothingly into her ear.

"Tommy," she croaked.

"It's alright," he kissed her shoulder. "It was just a dream; you're alright."

Saoirse took a shaky breath, her entire body trembling as silent tears fell. It was just a dream. The same dream she had most nights. But that's all it was; just a dream. It wasn't real, no matter how vivid it felt. And just like every night, Tommy was right there helping her through it. He never complained at being woken, he just sat with her and waited for her breathing to even out once more.

"Sorry," she mumbled, a short while later as she lay against Tommy's chest, listening to heart beneath her ear and letting its steady rhythm calm her.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Tommy murmured, his hands stroking her back languidly while his other hand brought his lit cigarette to his lips. "Was it the cat one again?"

"Yes," she whispered, sounding so fragile to Tommy's ears.

It hurt him to see her like this night after night, but as a man who still heard shovels banging against the bedroom wall, he could offer her no resolution. All he could do was be there, to hold her and to listen to the horrors that plagued her sleep.

"You know that I'll never let him near you, don't you?" Tommy said.

"I know," Saoirse nodded. She believed him. She really did. Trying to come to terms with what Joe had done to her had been, and still was, a long and difficult road but it was somehow made easier by the fact that she had Tommy to help her through. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that he loved her and would never hurt her, and therefore she had made herself a promise not to let Joe ruin her chance for a happy future.

But she didn't know how to explain to Tommy that after these nightmares, the bit that played over and over in her head the most was the way people looked at her. The way they stared at her as though she was some sort of monster.

She had been out of the house only twice in the last few weeks and although it was only to the shops with Polly, it had been so hard for her to leave the safety of Watery Lane. People had smiled kindly and sympathetically, offering her well wishes. She had been unable to shake the feeling though that their reactions were only out of fear for the fact that she was now associated with the Shelbys. And for some reason that really bothered her. She didn't know what kind of words they uttered about the state of her face when they were back in the safety of their homes, but she knew unequivocally that they said something. And that was what got to her the most. It made no sense to her, so how would she even begin to explain that to Tommy?

She was broken from her thoughts when Tommy lifted her hand and kissed the green emerald on her ring finger. Saoirse smiled, thinking about the delight on his face just days after their impromptu engagement when he had slipped that on her finger in the middle of the night after another of her bad dreams. As someone who hated jewellery, the feel of it was still somewhat annoying but every time she felt its weight she was reminded of the man who gave it to her.

"I love you," he murmured.

"I love you, too," she stroked his face and leaned up to kiss his full lips.

Their mouths kissed slowly as though they had all the time in the world. But when Saoirse felt Tommy hard against her, she tensed subconsciously. Tommy pulled back to look at her in concern, and when he saw her face he understood immediately.

"I'm sorry," Saoirse whispered. "I really want to, it's just-"

"-Stop," Tommy stroked her cheek. "There's no rush, love. We've got forever, eh?"

"I don't deserve you," Saoirse murmured, snuggling up against Tommy's chest.

Tommy said nothing, because truthfully he was the one who felt undeserving. But he gathered her up in his arms and kissed the top of her head, waiting for sleep to over-take them again. He didn't care if he was undeserving. He always had been a selfish man who took what he wanted. And he wanted her.

….

When Saoirse woke up again a few hours later she was alone in bed, and the spot where Tommy had slept was cold, meaning he had been gone for a while. Pulling on her dressing gown, and combing her fingers through her wayward hair, she trudged down the stairs where she was greeted by a smiling Ada sat at the table with an ever present book in her hand.

"Morning," Polly turned around from the stove where she was brewing a fresh pot of tea. "How did you sleep?"

"Well," Saoirse smiled, and neither of them acknowledged the lie.

"Good," Polly nodded, setting a bowl of porridge down in front of Saoirse, adding a little jam to sweeten it and give it flavour. "Eat up because we're going out soon."

"Pardon?"

"I said we're going out," Polly repeated in a voice that broached no arguments. "You need to get out and get some fresh air so we're taking the car out to the country. Johnny Dogs and his family have gone to the fair for a few days, but they left a few of the older women with the caravans so there'll be hardly anyone around."

"I don't feel up to it today," Saoirse answered quickly.

"I realise I phrased that wrong," Polly fixed her with a pointed look. "I wasn't asking you, I was telling you."

Saoirse opened her mouth to retort angrily but she was so shocked by Polly's stern tone that nothing came out.

"Close your mouth; you look like you're about to catch flies," Polly muttered. Her face softened and she took Saoirse's hand reassuringly. "Listen to me, love, I'm not trying to be horrid; trust me you'd know it if I was."

"You can say that again," Ada murmured under her breath, smiling innocently when Polly raised an eyebrow at her.

"I just… you know I care about you; we all do. Just come out for a few hours, hmm?" Polly smiled warmly. "Another week or two and the snow will come down then we'll all be battening down the hatches for winter. Getting some air and taking in the greenery will be a nice reprieve. I thought we could take a picnic, and if a bottle of gin happens to fall in the basket then it would be rude of us not to drink it, wouldn't it?"

Saoirse smiled back. She wasn't going to get out of it; Polly had made that perfectly clear. She may as well make the best of it and try to enjoy herself.

….

The drive was not enjoyable in the slightest. Ada decided she wanted to drive and Polly had agreed with her logic that she was safer practicing out on country roads than the busy streets of Birmingham. However, Saoirse was certain her life had flashed before her eyes at least three times, and even Polly had been gripping onto her seat for dear life. It was only when Ada had been forced to stop the car because Saoirse was going to be sick, did Polly take control of the wheel once more.

"Do you often get car sick?" Ada asked, rubbing Saoirse's back as she vomited again at the side of the road.

"Not usually," Saoirse groaned.

"That's usually because the person driving isn't bumping the poor girl all over the place," Polly muttered, throwing her cigarette down and squashing it under her heel.

"Funny," Ada rolled her eyes sarcastically. "It's not my fault that this car is terrible to drive."

"You can't blame the car," Polly snorted. "You're a shit driver and that's all there is to it."

"Alright, stop it you two," Saoirse stood up and wiped her face with the back of her hand. She took the handkerchief Ada held out gratefully and climbed gingerly into the back seat of the car. "I don't care which one of you drives, but can we just fucking hurry up and get there? Preferably in one piece, please."

"Amen," Polly smirked, climbing into the driver's side. "Get in Ada and put that bottom lip away. It wasn't cute when you were a child and it still isn't now."

With a huff, Ada climbed in beside Polly. The car took off and Saoirse closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat, fighting off the lingering urge to be sick again. She must have nodded off at some point, because she was rudely awoken a short time later by Ada throwing a barley sweet at her face.

"We're here," Ada grinned, yanking open the passenger door to let Saoirse out. She must have seen the unease on Saoirse's face because she smiled reassuringly and took her hand. "Listen, there's no one around, I promise."

Nodding, Saoirse climbed out hesitantly, pulling her coat around her as the biting winter air whipped itself around her. No matter the weather, it was really beautiful out here. The lush green grass was still kissed by morning frost and it twinkled where the sunlight hit it. In the near distance where a few of the caravans that she guessed must belong to Johnny Dogs' family. She had yet to meet the infamous Johnny Dogs, but she'd heard an awful lot about him. He seemed like a character and she was very much looking forward to meeting him at some point in the future.

She followed Polly and Ada across the field and as they got closer to the movable dwellings, Polly led them to the steps of a beautiful dark green wagon.

"This is the first part of your surprise," she said, handing Saoirse a letter.

"Surprise?" she frowned.

"It's all in the letter," Polly smiled.

_Dear Saoirse,_

_Today is a sad day for our family, because it was on this day all those years ago that we lost our mother. She was perfect and beautiful, and she would have adored you. But as you know, life was not kind to her in that it gave her a man who didn't treat her as she deserved._

_But this year, instead of using her anniversary to soak in grief, there is something that I wish to do in her honour. I want for this day to have happiness behind it instead of sadness, which is why I've brought you out here._

_Today, Saoirse O'Reilly, I hope you will do me the honour of becoming my wife. It's all prepared. Polly and Ada have everything you will need, and all you have to do is meet me at the tiny church nestled just behind the trees to the left of where you're stood._

_Myself, Arthur, Finn and John await you there. If you come, know that you're making me the happiest man on earth. And if you don't? Well, I'll blame you when Arthur can't stop crying._

_I love you,_

_Tommy._

Saoirse giggled at the last few lines of the letter, shaking the letter to rid it from splattered tears as she turned her head to catch sight of a clearing of trees to the left, just like Tommy had written.

"I can't believe you two knew about this and didn't say anything," she sobbed happily.

"Tommy would have murdered us if we ruined the surprise," Ada hugged her. "I can't believe today I finally get a sister."

"You hope today you get a sister," Polly touched Saoirse's cheek. "So, what's your answer going to be?"

"Do you really have to ask me that, Pol?" Saoirse whispered.

Polly's face broke out into a wide smile and she tucked Saoirse's hair behind her ear.

"Welcome to the family."


	15. Chapter 15

The sun shone brightly as the bride made her way to the tiny stone church, nestled in woods with trees that were gnarled and twisted in such ways that they told stories of all the marriages, births and deaths they had been present for over the years. The church had been founded in the middle ages and remained untouched for hundreds of years. Tommy used to visit with his mother when they would travel with Johnny Dogs, and he had known this was place he would marry Saoirse from the very second he asked her.

Waiting outside for the bride and her party of two was Arthur, whose face broke into a wide smile when he saw Saoirse gliding towards him in a vision of white lace that didn't keep out the cold air of winter. But she didn't care. She was marrying the man she loved and she couldn't even feel the cold upon her skin.

"You look beautiful," Arthur was choked up, his eyes softening as she reached him.

Saoirse never thought in a hundred years she would ever feel beautiful again, but Polly and Ada had worked their magic and she felt like the most beautiful human to ever grace the earth. Her hair was free and decorated with a headband of white snowdrops and ivy that Polly had made to match the delicate bouquet in Saoirse's hands.

"I'm scared," Saoirse admitted with a nervous laugh. "What if I get in there and he changes his mind about me? About all of this?"

Arthur laughed and grabbed her gently by the shoulders. "Trust me, that's not gonna happen, sweetheart," he reassured her. "He's in there right now asking John the very same thing."

"He is?"

"Yeah," Arthur grinned, pulling back to take in her appearance one more time. "My brother's gonna lose his fucking mind when he sees you. Sure you don't wanna elope with me instead? We could run now and be far away before they realise?"

Saoirse and smiled and touched a cold hand to Arthur's even colder cheek. He covered her hands with his own and smiled back.

"Was worth a shot, eh?" he murmured. "Shall we go in then?"

Saoirse glanced around to notice that Polly and Ada had slipped inside the church, leaving her and Arthur alone. She took a deep breath and took the arm that Arthur now held out to her.

She was getting married.

….

The church was even more beautiful on the inside than it was on the outside. It was filled with hundreds of white pillar candles and the light flickered around the tiny stone building, illuminating it with a soft and almost ethereal glow. Ada had had the good idea to have the boys bring the small wind up gramophone so they could have some sort of music for Saoirse to walk down the aisle to without having strangers present.

Tommy's heart pounded in his chest when he saw her walking towards him in time to the gentle music Ada had chosen and on the arm of his older brother. He clenched his jaw and swallowed in a vain attempt to keep his emotions in check.

She smiled nervously as she stopped beside him and he smiled back, reaching out to take her hand once Arthur had kissed her cheek and taken his place at the altar beside John. Jeremiah began the service but Tommy didn't hear a word of the heartfelt words his friend spoke. He was too engrossed in the woman before him.

He wasn't sure how they got through the vows; he was certain he didn't even remember his mouth moving to repeat them but before long he was sliding the gold band onto Saoirse's finger and the two of them were man and wife.

Although the number of guests was small, the noise they made was loud as they clapped and cheered for the two newlyweds who kissed and wrapped their arms around each other.

"Mrs Shelby," Tommy pulled back to peer down into Saoirse's face. "Can't get rid of me now."

"Lucky me," she beamed. This was real. She was married to the love of her life, and she wasn't certain she had ever felt such happiness in her entire life. "I can't believe you did all this."

"Wanted to surprise you," he murmured, stroking her cheek. "And I was afraid that if I told you, you wouldn't come."

"Tommy Shelby afraid?" she smirked. "Surely that can't be true."

"No, not scared," he shook his head. "Terrified. Of losing you."

"You're never going to lose me," she smiled, standing up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his. "You're stuck with me forever, Mr Shelby."

"I think I'm the lucky one then."

….

"This is beautiful."

It was nightfall and the stars twinkled above Tommy and Saoirse in the clear night sky as the two of them sat in the doorway of their vardo together. There was no noise; no cars, no people, only the hooting of an owl in the distance and a fox digging through the shrubs for food.

Tommy looked at Saoirse and smiled, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles while he smoked. After the wedding ceremony, they had eaten a light lunch back at the camp, but Tommy knew Saoirse wouldn't want a big fuss. So after Arthur had said a few words to welcome Saoirse officially into the family, Tommy had informed her that they were leaving. They were taking a vardo and riding until nightfall. He didn't know where they were going, only that she should choose a direction and they would go that way.

Perhaps it was by luck, or perhaps by fate, but the place they stopped was nothing short of heavenly. Nestled beside a bubbling brook and secluded by willow trees and greenery, it was the perfect spot for two newlyweds who were very much in love.

They sat for over an hour, just holding hands and listening to the sounds of nature that surrounded them. They didn't need to speak. They didn't need to do anything other than just be with each other in peace and quiet.

Eventually it grew cold and Saoirse shivered, despite Tommy's warm arm and jacket around her and they decided to retire for the night.

"Come here," Tommy smiled, pulling her into his arms after she was dressed for bed. He was already undressed and nestled underneath the patchwork quilt, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the oil lamp beside the bed.

"Mm," Saoirse murmured, kissing him on the cheek. "I love you so much."

"Not as much as I love you," he answered.

"Not true," Saoirse shook her head.

"Definitely true. I guarantee I love you even more than you love me."

"Is that a challenge, Mr Shelby?" Saoirse raised an eyebrow.

"If you want it to be," he smirked, nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth.

His hands roamed her body over her thin nightgown and she purred beneath him as his tongue licked at her lips, demanding entry. She opened up and her tongue swirled with his as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Their bodies were pressed together and Tommy's hand snaked up the skirt of her nightgown, his fingers edging closer to her centre.

"Stop," she gasped, pulling away from his kiss and sitting up. She was shaking and there a fine sheen of anxiety induced sweat upon her forehead. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying sorry," Tommy smiled reassuringly, stroking her hair back from her face where it had stuck there.

"Tommy, it's our wedding night," she swallowed, fiddling nervously with her trembling hands.

"And it's just one night, Saoirse," he murmured. "We've got plenty of nights together. We've got forever."

"I know that," she took a breath and looked up at him with difficulty. "But I want to, that's the thing. I want to more than anything. Joe took so much from me and tried to ruin my life. He almost succeeded and if he had I wouldn't be here with you now, would I?"

"But you are."

"I know that," she sighed. "But tonight is our wedding night, Tommy. If we don't… you know… then our marriage isn't really a marriage, is it?"

"Of course it is," he chuckled, kissing her shoulder. "You're my wife and nothing will change that."

Saoirse chewed on her lip and eyed him sadly. He was handsome; so perfect with those sharp cheekbones and full, soft lips. His eyes that usually were icy and cool were always so soft when they looked upon her. She felt as though she was completely undeserving of him. He had given her so much and what had she done for him?

Leaning forward, she cupped his face and pressed her lips against his, closing her eyes tightly shut as tears rolled down her cheeks. She opened her eyes and rested her nose against his.

"I want to do this," she said determinedly, even as her brain screamed that she didn't. "I don't want to let him win anymore. I don't want to let him control my life anymore. I just… I'm scared, Tommy. Every time you touch me in a certain way, I'm back on that floor crying and begging for him not to do it. I know it's you touching me, but in my mind it's his hands I can feel."

Tommy sighed and closed his eyes briefly. What was he supposed to say? What words did he have to make her forget? How could she forget when she was the one who went through it? He struggled enough having witnessed the aftermath, let alone having suffered it.

"I love you," he kissed her nose. "I never want you to feel that way when you're with me. I would never hurt you."

"I know that," she nodded. "I know that like I know the sky is blue. Which is why I want to do this. I don't want to let him rule the rest of our lives. I want to be your wife in every sense of the word."

Suddenly, Tommy lay back on the bed and looked at her with an expression that she just couldn't make out.

"What?" she frowned.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling her on top of him so that her legs were either side of his waist, and he could run his hands through her hair while he kissed her deeply.

They kissed slowly and sensually, their breaths mingling until they were almost breathing for each other and Tommy's hands didn't move from Saoirse's hair. He was desperate to run them up and down the length of her body but he forced himself to remain as still as possible.

Saoirse groaned as she felt him hard against her and subconsciously she ground her centre against him, hissing at the pleasure it brought. Tommy growled and his fingers gripped her hair tighter, making her cry out and he wasn't certain if it was with enjoyment or not.

He let go of her and his eyes questioned her silently, watching as her chest heaved up and down with her hard breathing. She gave him a wobbly smile and yanked her nightgown from her body, leaving her completely bare aside from her lace knickers. Tommy devoured her with his eyes, his hands twitching at his sides and his cock straining against his underwear.

Leaning down, she kissed his mouth while her hand trailed down his toned stomach to the bulge that was urgently craving her touch. Tommy groaned as she palmed him through the thin material of his briefs and she smiled against his mouth, enjoying the power she had over him. Sitting back, she pulled the briefs down and flung them over shoulder with a grin which brought a smirk to Tommy's lips. Her own underwear came off seconds later and she sat up for a moment just watching him, chewing on her lip as she shamelessly let her gaze wander over his body. Every tattoo, every scar; she kissed them all. She swirled her tongue around his nipples and let her hand reach down to feel his hard length.

She took one of Tommy's hands and pressed it to her clit, using his fingers to manipulate herself while she pumped him up and down slowly until they were both panting and on the edge. Tommy's fingers didn't stop even as she straddled his hips and eased herself down onto him.

"Fuck," Tommy hissed, when she began to move on top of him slowly.

Her rhythm caused him the most exquisite torture and he wanted, _needed_, more. Sitting up, he pulled her onto his lap so he could lick and suck at her nipples. Saoirse threw her head back as she rocked against him, clutching desperately at his hair feeling her release drawing ever closer.

Using his hands on her hips, Tommy moved her up and down until he was close himself. He bit lightly against her nipple, grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth while his thumb found its way to her clit. Circling gently, he thrust upwards and spilled himself inside of her as she clenched around him, crying out and gasping his name.

Tommy wrapped his arms around Saoirse, and lifted her hair from her neck, kissing the sweat soaked skin and feeling her heart beating wildly against his own.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, kissing her behind the ear, his hands running up and down her back.

"Mm," she sighed contently, her head buried in the crook of his beck, breathing in his scent and still in awe that he was really hers forever. "I love you, Tommy."

"I love you too," he kissed her temple.

Laying down once more, he pulled her into his arms, nestling himself behind her so he could nuzzle at her cheek, Tommy closed his eyes and listened to Saoirse's shallow breathing as she drifted off to sleep.

He couldn't stop touching her; running his fingers across her soft skin and kissing her even though was fast asleep. He lifted her left hand and kissed her wedding band, smiling to himself. He didn't care whatever life threw at him ever again because he had her for the rest of his days.


	16. Chapter 16

"We have to get up," Saoirse hummed, as Tommy nuzzled her neck and let his hands wander up and down her waist with a confident familiarity. She didn't think she would ever get used to the feeling of his hands upon her body. They were firm yet gentle all at once, and they left a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Two weeks of marriage had only heightened their desire for each other, and Saoirse couldn't remember a time when she had ever felt more relaxed and happy in her life. Even living in a small house with the rest of the Shelbys (apart from John and his sizable brood who lived a few doors down) so soon after their marriage couldn't dampen her joy. In fact, it made her feel like part of a real family; something she had so desperately craved since losing her parents. She felt like she truly belonged for the first time in a long time.

"Who says?" Tommy murmured, straddling her back and pressing his erection against her bottom. "I'm my own boss and if I want to go to work late then no one can say otherwise, eh?"

"But you've got that meeting," Saoirse protested weakly as he lifted her hips to slide himself inside of her. Tommy fit her so perfectly that it was as though God had made them for each other.

"I know," Tommy whispered as he filled her.

Saoirse bit her lip as Tommy moved her hair away from her neck so he could nip and suck at her flesh. The first time he had left a mark on her porcelain skin was a few days after they were married. He had just gotten lost in the heat of the moment and afterwards he had been repulsed with himself; he felt like he was no better than Joe. But Saoirse had stroked his cheek and reassured him that the mark he left upon her was one made with love and passion, and nothing like those Joe had ever left. Even the invisible marks Joe left from his words were worse than the proud badge of ownership she wore from her husband. Ownership was the wrong word though, because Tommy never sought to own or control her. But she belonged to him and as though the golden band and glittering emerald on her hand weren't enough, the light bruises from their lovemaking reminded her that they were bound together forever in the best possible way.

Wrapping his hands around her waist, Tommy lifted her so that they both were resting on their knees and Saoirse had to grab the headboard to steady herself as he began to thrust in and out in the most delicious rhythm. His hands cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples just enough to make her hiss with the pleasurable pain of it. They were so exquisitely sensitive lately that sometimes she wanted to beg Tommy not to touch them because she couldn't bare it.

"I love you," he panted in her ear, pounding into her over and over again.

Tommy was usually so in control of his emotions and kept up an unshakable façade, but when she could hear how strained his voice when they were joined together it made her want to rejoice with the knowledge that she could melt Tommy Shelby no one else. But the sensations that he managed to shoot through every inch of her body ended up being all she could focus on.

"Tommy," she bit her lip and groaned, wriggling her hips as his hand slipped down her stomach to her core.

"Mm," he sucked on her earlobe, grinning when his thumb pressed against her clit and she moaned loudly. "Come on, Saoirse. Come right now for me like a good girl."

He pinched her clit at the same time as he bit her neck once again, marking her as his, and she threw her head back as her orgasm rocketed through her with such intensity that she wanted to cry. Tommy was right behind, spilling inside of her with a grunt and holding her close; his mouth never leaving her skin.

"If I'm ever King, I'm going to make it the law for everyone to begin their morning like this," Tommy smiled, turning Saoirse around so he could kiss her.

"If you're ever King and you make that the law, then you can also pass a law that says amorous husbands have to let their wives sleep before midnight if they expect them to perform their wifely duties first thing in the morning," Saoirse grinned.

"Perform their wifely duties?" Tommy frowned. "You make it sound like having sex with me is a chore."

"Meh," she shrugged, biting her lip as her eyes twinkled teasingly.

"Right, that's it," Tommy shook his head in mock disgust. "You're in big trouble now."

Saoirse squealed as Tommy wrestled her against the bed, tickling her mercilessly while she begged for him to stop.

"Not until you tell me how good I am in bed," he smirked, nipping her stomach with his teeth.

"Piss off," Saoirse panted, giggling and screeching at the same time.

"Tell me," Tommy was adamant. He pinned her arms above her head easily and sucked a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirling languidly as his teeth grazed gently and suddenly the mood went from fun to something else in mere seconds. "Lost for words, eh, love? Mm that's what I thought."

"Tommy," Saoirse whined as his lips began to trail a path down her stomach. "Please."

"Please what?" he murmured. "Please stop?"

She made a noise and bucked her hips as he neared her centre. Tommy chuckled against her flesh and suddenly sat up and began to dress, barely even glancing back at her.

"Come on, lazy bones," he patted her lightly on the thigh. "You've kept me holed up in here long enough. Some of us have got very important meetings to get to."

"You cheeky bastard," Saoirse pouted, squeezing her thighs together to ease the ache there. How did Tommy have the ability to make her crave him constantly?

Tommy smirked as he buttoned up his shirt. Saoirse swung her legs out of bed and walked over to the wash basin next to the vanity table. Tommy smiled at her through the mirror, his eyes following her every movement until she was dressed and presentable for the day ahead.

"Beautiful, Mrs Shelby," Tommy wrapped his arms around her and kissed her sweetly.

"Tommy," Finn's voice sounded muffled through the door. "Polly said are you two coming down for breakfast any time today?"

"Tell her we're coming now," Tommy answered, rolling his eyes at Saoirse. "Come on you, let's get downstairs before Queen Polly comes up here to get us herself."

….

"About time," Polly raised an eyebrow, setting down some more toast and bacon onto the table. "Thought you two were going to be up there all morning."

"I tell you, Tom, it's bad enough having to listen to you at it all night through the bedroom wall; I don't wanna hear it when I'm trying to eat my fuckin' breakfast as well," Arthur grumbled playfully, slathering brown sauce on his bacon.

Saoirse groaned and put her head in Tommy's shoulder, certain she was about to die of embarrassment but Tommy just shrugged Arthur's jibes off.

"Don't embarrass her, Arthur," Ada slapped him on the arm. "They're in love. And besides they're getting all their practice in before Tommy gets her up the duff. If he hasn't already."

"Not yet," Tommy muttered, stirring milk into his tea. "But hopefully soon enough."

Saoirse smiled at Tommy's word. He had made no secret to her of how excited he was to start a family and she felt the same way. A little baby that was half her and half Tommy. Tommy reached for her hand under the table and squeezed it, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

"I love you," she kissed his cheek.

"Right, that's enough lovey dovey at my table," Polly muttered, but she even she couldn't hide her delight at seeing the two of them so happy. "What's plan today, girls?"

"I'm going with John to Wolverhampton," Ada's voice was muffled as she continued to talk through a massive mouthful of toast. "He's got some business and I thought I might browse that old book shop I like."

"Better than wasting money on more clothes you don't need I suppose," Polly stirred sugar into her tea.

"She's doesn't need more books either," Tommy scoffed.

"True enough," Polly agreed. "But of the two, I'd say books were the lesser evil. And besides, at least they make her use her brain and broaden her mind."

"So while our Ada's out wasting money, what are you doing, Saoirse?" Arthur asked, his lips smacking together as he chewed his bacon with gusto.

"Well I thought I might tackle the upstairs windows and also that rather questionable stain on the upstairs landing."

"Fun," Ada pulled a face. "Never let it be said Saoirse doesn't know how to have a good time."

"Shove off," Saoirse glared playfully at Ada who just smirked.

"Right, I'd best be off," Tommy announced, downing the last dregs of his tea and kissing the top of Saoirse's head. "I'll see you later, alright?"

"Will you be home for lunch?" Saoirse asked him.

"Possibly. Depends on how the meeting goes," he answered, reaching for his coat. "But either way, I'll be counting down the hours until I get to see your face again."

"Pass me a bucket," Arthur grimaced. "It's enough to almost put a man off his appetite."

"You know you're still my favourite though, Arthur?" Saoirse winked at him.

"Yeah I know," Arthur chortled. "I'm everyone's fucking favourite."

….

The morning passed rather uneventfully but for some reason, Saoirse felt a little unsettled although she couldn't quite place why. There was just something that didn't feel right. She kept trying to tell herself it was just anxiety. She still had nightmares about Joe and it must be playing on her mind subconsciously.

But it felt like more than that. It was a gnawing pit in her stomach that wouldn't close no matter how hard she tried to think about anything else. Dumping the bucket of water she had been using to clean the upstairs windows onto the kitchen side, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying her best to focus on steadying the flow of oxygen through her body. Nice and calm; nice and relaxing. There was nothing to worry about. Joe was long gone; she was happily married to a man who treated her like she hung the moon and stars; she was hoping to start a family with said man; she had a family who had welcomed her with open arms. Everything was as perfect as could be.

She smiled to herself, rubbing her hand across her stomach and wondering how soon it would be until she carried Tommy's child. Would they have a boy first or a girl? Would they look like Tommy or like her? The thought of creating a tiny life with the man she loved was everything to Saoirse.

"What are you smiling about?" Polly asked, dropping her bag on the table.

"Just thinking about things," Saoirse shrugged. She had been so lost in her own sweet daydreams that she hadn't even heard Polly come through the front door. "Pol, can I ask you something?"

"Course you can, love."

"How did you first know when you were pregnant?"

Polly had once confided in Saoirse that she had two children who were taken away years ago, when she had unjustly been deemed an unfit mother, and while Saoirse felt a little guilty bringing up what was undoubtedly a sore subject for her, she just didn't have anyone else to ask.

Growing up without a mother for most of her life meant that so many womanly things had never been explained to her. Not even in the orphanage had the nuns spoken to the girls in their care of the things that would happen to their bodies. Saoirse remembered the day she first got her monthly. She had gone to the toilet and cried, convinced she was dying when she had seen blood in her underwear. It was one of the older girls who had taken her aside and reassured her that it was nothing to worry about that it would happen every month from then on. But even the older girl hadn't really known how or why it happened; only that once a female bled it meant she could have babies. And to have babies she needed to lie with a man. But of course, lying with a man was sin according to the nuns.

As such, Saoirse had absolutely no idea how a woman knew they were going to have a baby. Well, aside from the growing stomach and baby moving inside of them, but that took months surely?

"Well it's different for every woman and every pregnancy," Polly filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove to boil before lighting herself a cigarette. She leant back against the kitchen side and eyed Saoirse with fondness. "Some women are sick all day and all night; some are never sick, or some are sick intermittently. Some go off certain foods while others are completely unaffected. Usually your breasts tend to feel a little tender, but really the only thing that happens to all women at first is that their monthly stops."

Polly continued talking but Saoirse couldn't hear what she was saying. All she could hear was the swooshing noise of the blood pounding in her ears. She blinked. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Bile filled her mouth and her eyes watered as she swallowed it down. She was running for the door before she even realised it.

"Where are you going?" Polly called after her. "Saoirse, it's pouring it down out there."

But the door had slammed shut before Polly could get to it, and she turned her head to see that Saoirse's coat was still hanging on the hook. She had no idea what the hell had happened but she needed to find Tommy fast.

….

Saoirse ran and ran and ran. She didn't know where she was going, she didn't particularly care. Nor did she care about the cold rain soaking through her thin dress. In fact, the cold was a relief from the numbness that encompassed her.

_The only thing that happens to all women at first is that their monthly stops._

Polly's words were whirring around her head on a loop. Saoirse stopped on the corner of Argyle Street and retched up her breakfast, choking on the burning bile that invaded her nostrils. Someone approached her to ask if she was alright and should they find Mr Shelby, but she just brushed them aside and staggered away.

Tommy. Her eyes squeezed shut in agony as she thought of him. How was she going to tell him this? The second Polly had uttered that one sentence, Saoirse felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water all over, for she realised with horror that she hadn't bled since the night Joe had attacked her. Which was also the night she had first made love to Tommy.

And there was the sickness she'd experienced on and off over the past few weeks; the tender breasts as well. She slapped a hand over her mouth to cover up the whimper that escaped as she wondered how she could have been so blind to it all.

She was trembling and she felt as though she was in a haze. Why was this happening to her? Hadn't enough terrible things happened to her in her life? Hadn't she suffered enough? And now when everything was starting to look up for her and she was feeling happy for the first time in so long, the life that she was now certain she had growing inside of her was about to destroy it all.

She was going to lose Tommy; she knew that for a fact. He might love her but how could he love a child that wasn't his? There's was a fifty percent chance the baby was his, but how could he agree to bring up a child that had an equal statistic of _not_ being his at the same time? What if they baby came out and looked like Joe? She would forever be haunted all the more by what he had done, as though her face and the nightmare weren't enough.

Saoirse needed to get away; somewhere, anywhere to be alone and just think about what she was going to do. But where she could go was beyond her. She had never felt more alone in that moment than in all her life.

….

"What do you mean she just took off?"

Tommy was chomping at the bit; he was positively seething, pacing his office like a caged animal. Polly was fraught with worry and chewed her lip anxiously. She had searched the surrounding streets hoping to catch a glimpse of auburn hair that stood out like fire, but she had found nothing. With trepidation gnawing at her, Polly had reluctantly gone to find Tommy. And just like Polly expected, his reaction hadn't been calm or rational.

"She just ran out before I could stop her," Polly answered. "We were talking and then all of a sudden she just looked like someone who'd seen a ghost and she went."

"Talking? What were you talking about?"

"Does it matter?" Polly frowned.

"It fucking does to me!" Tommy roared. He stopped pacing and pinched the bridge of his nose. His chest was heaving and his hands shaking with all the emotions racing through him at that one moment. "Look, I just need to understand what happened. If you said something to upset her then I won't be mad, I just need the truth."

"Are you honestly being serious?" Polly laughed indignantly. "How dare you think I would do or say anything to upset that girl."

"I'm not saying it was intentional," Tommy sighed. "It's just that sometimes you have a way of putting things so bluntly that it can offend people."

"Oh fuck off," Polly growled.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Tommy shouted as Polly reached the door.

"To find your fucking wife," Polly spat.

Tommy roared, flinging everything from his desk in a fit of temper. He needed to find Saoirse, and he just couldn't let go of the fear that if he didn't know where she was that somehow it meant Joe could get to her and he wouldn't be able to stop it from happening.

He was being irrational; he knew this, but it didn't matter. He was going to find his wife and not let her out of his sight again.

….

It had grown dark and the hour was late. Saoirse looked down at her arms and tears fell, mingling with the dried blood. She was disgusted and ashamed at herself, but it had been a short relief; a way to momentarily ease the tumultuous thoughts running through her brain.

A white nose pushed itself against her face and the horse snickered when she reached up to stroke its soft hair. She had snuck in here hours ago. She didn't even remember walking there; all she knew was that her legs moved of their own volition until she was at the yard. It had been uncharacteristically devoid of both Charlie and Curly, which she had been grateful for as it meant she had been able to just creep into one of the stables and sit with her own thoughts.

Tommy always told her that whenever he was stressed or anxious, he would come and sit with one of the horses because they soothed him. He told her countless times that horses had a sixth sense and were in tune with people. They knew what a person was feeling and would react accordingly. He hadn't been wrong. This beautiful stallion hadn't left Saoirse alone, and she was certain he looked at her with eyes that understand everything she whispered and cried to him. Even when she had found a small penknife in the corner of the stable that had obviously been dropped, the horse had tried his best to distract her when she began to cut. She had felt even more guilty doing it in front of watchful eyes, but not guilty enough to stop.

She kissed the horse's nose, closing her eyes and breathing in his sweet, hay smell.

"Saoirse?"

She looked up to see Tommy stood in the doorway, soaking wet and dark circles under his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked quietly, stepping towards her.

The horse was excited to see him and he cooed softly to the creature, talking to it in Romany as he always did.

"I've been looking for you all afternoon. Polly, Arthur, John, Ada, everyone; have all been out looking for you."

Saoirse said nothing and that was when Tommy saw her arms. He crouched down and eyed the dried welts with sadness before looking at her.

"What's this?" he murmured. "Why have you done this?"

"I had to," she sobbed. "I just… I couldn't think and I needed…I just…it just makes it all go away for a moment and then…"

"And then what hm?" Tommy touched his lips gently to the cuts on her arm.

"Don't do that," she cringed, pulling her arm away. "Please don't be nice to me. I don't deserve it."

"Is this about what Polly said? She told me that you and her were talking and then something she said upset you. What was it?"

"I can't tell you," Saoirse whispered, biting on her lip as it trembled violently.

"Can't? Or won't?"

"Both."

A pitiful tear trailed down her cheek and Tommy took her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs under her eyes to catch any more tears that escaped.

"Saoirse, it's me," he kissed her. "I'm your husband. I made vows to love and honour and protect you know matter what. But I can't do that if you don't tell me what's wrong, love."

"I'm scared," she let out a shaky breath.

"Listen to me now," Tommy pressed his forehead against hers. "These last few months have given you every right to be scared over so many things and you've gotten yourself through them with strength and dignity. Now whatever it is you're scared of, I'm here for it. I'll be brave for you if that's what you need, but I know that whatever it is, you'll be able to get yourself through it just like everything else that's been thrown at you."

"Not this time," she shook her head, sniffing. "I'm pregnant, Tommy."


	17. Chapter 17

Tommy blinked. He wasn't certain he had heard the words properly at first. Only he had. They just hadn't quite sunk in properly yet. A baby. Saoirse was having a baby. _They_ were having a baby. So why was she crying? This was what she wanted, what they both wanted. Wasn't it? Hadn't they just the night before lay in bed intertwined and talked about what their future children would look like? Or had that all just been a figment of his imagination?

"I thought this would have been a good thing?"

"A good thing?" Saoirse sobbed. "Tommy, I don't know how I haven't noticed but I've not had my

monthly since the night that we... which is the night that Joe did what he did. Now can you tell me you think this is a good thing?"

Tommy felt like she had dropped a bucket of ice cold water over his head instantaneously. Now he understood completely. If it was as it seemed and she was almost three months pregnant, there was no way to tell whether the baby was his or that bastard's. There was only a matter of hours difference in between the timing. His mind was whirring with all sorts of thoughts and feelings. His first thought was for Saoirse. Hadn't she been through enough? Wasn't He upstairs, the man that Polly prayed to daily and with such devotion for a woman who needed no man in her life, satisfied that He had put Saoirse through enough? And now, when her life was finally going the way she deserved, when she finally had the joy and happiness that she was worthy of, it was in danger of being destroyed.

It was funny that the thing that should have concerned him most in that moment was the knowledge that his wife was possibly carrying another man's child, yet he found that to be the furthest thing from his mind. She was his concern and nothing else. This beautiful woman who had come into his life and turned it up side down and made him happier than he ever thought he could be. This amazing strong woman who has gone through so much and managed to drag herself out of that life draining black pit of despair and hurt over and over again. But would she be able to drag herself out this time? It was obvious to Tommy that no matter whose baby it was, this wasn't the welcome new Saoirse wanted. He couldn't say he blamed her. After all, if the child was to be Joe's it would be a constant reminder of what he had done and how he had tried to break her. Because having her face scarred for life wasn't reminder enough apparently. But what if it was his? What if it was a child made out of love, their love?

"I don't want it," Saoirse croaked, disturbing him from his thoughts.

"You don't mean that," he said.

"I do," she took a shaky breath. "I don't want it, Tommy. I don't want anything of his growing in me. I want it gone."

"And if it's mine?"

"It won't be," she shook her head, her bottom lip wobbling. "I know it will be his because this is me. Nothing ever goes right for me."

"That's not true," Tommy cupped her face and put his forehead against hers. "What about us? We're married and we're happy... what's wrong about that?"

"Being married to you is the only good thing I've ever had in my life," Saoirse sighed. "But if I keep this baby then that's ruined; it's tarnished."

"No," Tommy said vehemently. "Don't say that. A baby is a blessing."

"It would be if it was yours," she agreed.

"And there's a fifty percent chance that it is mine."

Saoirse looked down at her hands, picking absentmindedly at her nails. She just wanted to close her eyes and pretend this was all a bad dream. When she was back in the orphanage, she used to close her eyes at night and convince herself that when she awoke in the morning, the nightmare would be over. But dawn would come with its mocking cheeriness and she would be forced to continue to live her hell. She was a grown woman now and she didn't have to live like that ever again. She had escaped Joe and the orphanage, and she wasn't going to be dragged down again. Keeping the baby would ensure the extinction of the last glimpse of light she possessed and that was why she was adamant she couldn't keep it.

"I don't expect you to understand, Tommy," she said finally. "But I expect you to respect my decision."

"Respect your decision?" Tommy scoffed. "You expect me to take you to some back alley butcher and let them cut the baby out of you? A baby that might be mine?"

"Yes," she whispered quietly. "Because if you loved me at all, you would understand why I can't do this."

"Don't you dare play that card," Tommy spat. "You know I love you, but I won't stand by and let you kill my baby."

"It might not be your baby."

"And it fucking might well be!" he roared, launching his cap across the stable in a fit of rage.

Saoirse had never in her life been afraid of Tommy. She knew he could be dangerous when truly provoked, but she had never really seen that side of him before. She wasn't scared of him in the way she ever had been of Joe because she knew deep down that Tommy would sooner die than lay a finger on her in anger, but she still didn't relish being the cause of his rage.

The only sound that filled the stable was that of their heavy breathing and the gentle rustle of the horse eating its hay, seemingly unperturbed by the humans arguing in its temporary home. Tommy's hands were clenched into tightly wound fists at his side and he was shaking with the effort it took to keep his anger in check. It wasn't even Saoirse that he was mad at; he understood what she was saying completely. He was just mad at the entire situation. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, and he hated anything that was out of his control.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, clearing his throat. "I didn't mean to lose my temper."

"I'm sorry, too," Saoirse replied sadly. "I'm sorry that my choice hurts you but it's my choice, and I'm doing it with or without your approval."

"Look, why don't we just hold off from making any rash decisions right now?" Tommy sighed. "Let's visit the doctor and just see what he says, then we can decide what to do?"

"I've told you what I'm doing."

"Saoirse, please," Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stay calm. "Please just see the doctor and we'll talk?"

"Fine," she agreed.

She would let Tommy think he could reason with her if that helped the situation, but the truth was that she was getting rid of it no matter what he or the doctor, or even the King for that matter, said.

….

Tommy had them booked in to see the very best doctor in Birmingham the next day, but no matter how good he was he couldn't change the outcome of the situation. Saoirse was around ten weeks pregnant and no mortal knew who the father was; only the big man in the sky knew that and He was keeping his cards close to his chest. The silence during the car ride home had been deafening and Saoirse had sat as still as a statue, barely breathing, barely blinking. As the car pulled up on Watery Lane, Saoirse took a long breath before finally speaking.

"There's a woman in Stoke who will do it and she's far away enough to not know I'm married to a Shelby," her voice was quiet yet determined. "Polly or Ada can come with me so you don't have to and when I come back, we can forget all about this and live our lives how we intended to."

Tommy didn't trust himself to say a single word. Instead his back molar cracked under the intense pressure of his jaw grinding angrily as he tried to remain calm. In the end, he yanked open the car door and flew out down the road, his coat flailing behind him. Saoirse wanted so desperately to allow herself to feel guilty at hurting the person she loved the most in the world, but she couldn't because she hurt even more herself. A new life growing inside of her was supposed to be precious and joyful, but this felt like an amalgamation of every bad thing that she had ever gone through in her life. Only the night before she had dreamt that when the baby was born, it had been the spitting image of Joe and she had awoken sweating and panting with tears pouring down her face. It had terrified her to no end and she knew she could never love a child that might have been borne from the most horrific ordeal she had ever lived through.

Sighing, she wiped away the tiny tear that rolled down her cheek and sniffed, determined to pull herself together before she went into the house. She had to be strong and get through this. Tommy might not see that it was for the best right now, but in time he would.

….

In the week that passed, Tommy and Saoirse had barely looked at one another, let alone spoke. They lay in bed beside each other yet feeling further away than ever before. When the morning finally came for Saoirse to take the train to Stoke, Tommy was sat at the kitchen table smoking cigarette after cigarette while his wife packed her bag upstairs in their bedroom.

"Polly, have you seen my black heels?" Ada asked Polly as she chewed on a piece of toast and fixed her bobbed hair in the mirror.

"What's wrong with your boots?"

"Nothing," Ada shrugged. "But I just want to look nice."

"You want to look nice?" Tommy narrowed his eyes coldly at her. "You want to look nice while you take my wife to get rid of our baby?"

Ada grimaced at how thoughtless she had been. She hadn't meant to be so insensitive.

"I'm only going with her because she asked me to so she wasn't alone," Ada explained lamely.

"Yeah, that I understand," Tommy muttered, flinging his cigarette into the ashtray. "But what I don't understand is why you're behaving like it's a fucking day out to the seaside or something."

"Tommy," Arthur frowned, placing a reassuring hand on Ada's shoulder. "Ada didn't mean anything by it."

"She didn't?" Tommy frowned. "And you're privy to the inner workings of Ada's head, are you? No, of course you're not because you can't even make sense of the fucking pathetic thoughts in your own head, can you?"

"There's no need for that, Thomas," Polly admonished him sternly.

"I'm not asking for your opinion, Pol, so keep your nose out, eh?" Tommy glared.

"And I'm not giving you any opinion," Polly answered tartly. "But I'm not going to let you to talk to everyone like shit because you're in a terrible mood."

"And why's that, eh?" Tommy stood up angrily. "I'll tell you why, shall I? In two hours' time, my pregnant wife is going to get on a train to go to a city she doesn't know so she can let a woman shove a fucking crochet hook or something equally as horrible up her, all so she can get rid of a baby that may or may not be mine. And there's not a single fucking thing I can do about it because she's made up her mind and I don't have a fucking say in the matter. All I find myself wondering constantly is how I can get through to her that if she does this, if she gets on that train, she's going to regret it for the rest of her life."

"You can't," Arthur muttered.

"Tell me something I don't already know, Arthur."

"Arthur's right," Polly agreed with an almost wistful look upon her face. "You can't get it through to her, but just maybe I can."

….

Saoirse looked up at the sound of the gentle rap on the bedroom door.

"Come in."

She gave a wobbly smile when she saw Polly holding a cup of tea and a plate of toast.

"Thought you might be hungry?" Polly smiled warmly, setting them down on the bedside table.

"Thanks Pol, but I don't think I can eat anything," Saoirse sighed, sitting down on the bed and putting her last few things into her overnight bag. "Is Tommy alright? I thought I heard him shouting downstairs."

"You did," Polly nodded. "He's… well you don't need me to tell you how he is because you already know."

Saoirse chewed her lip and closed up her bag before looking at Polly with an unreadable expression.

"You think I'm horrid, don't you?"

"No," Polly shook her head, reaching forward to take one of Saoirse's hands. "I don't think that at all."

"You don't?" Saoirse couldn't hide her surprise at the sincere softness in Polly's tone.

"Not at all," Polly smiled, sitting down at the end of the bed. "I can't judge you for something I've done myself."

Saoirse looked up and gasped, before frowning as Polly's words sunk in.

"You? I didn't… When?"

"When I was seventeen," Polly sighed, looking at the clock on the bedside table, wishing she didn't have to relive that time but knowing it was necessary. "I was young and naive; I thought I was in love and that he was the one. Turned out he was having it off with anything with a pulse, and I doubt I was the only one that got pregnant by him. But there was no way I could have kept it. My parents would have killed me, and so I got rid of it. And not a single day of my life has gone by where I haven't thought about that baby. What would they be like? Would they be a boy or a girl? Would they have looked like me? Would they have been kind? Funny? But I'll never know and I've lived with the guilt all my life. It's funny really because even when I was there, having it done I didn't feel anything; no attachment towards the tiny being growing inside of me. But days later when the baby finally came away, I knew I had made the biggest mistake of my life and could do nothing to change it."

"And you think that's what I'll be doing if I go through with this?"

"Not necessarily," Polly shook her head. "You're your own person and your thoughts and feelings can't and shouldn't be changed by someone else. But what I would say is that if you are feeling even the slightest bit of doubt about going through with this then you need to think long and hard before it's too late."

Saoirse closed her eyes and let out a breath that made her shoulders slump with the weight of the burden she was carrying.

"I'm scared I won't love it," she whispered. "I'm terrified that if I keep the baby, it will come out looking just like Joe and that I'll never be able to love it. What kind of life is that for a child?"

"And if it comes out looking like Tommy?"

"That won't happen," Saoirse sighed sadly. "I just know it won't."

"You don't know that," Polly squeezed her hand once more. "And from one mother to another, I promise you that the very second that baby is placed in your arms, you will love it like nothing else you have ever known."

"I don't know what to do," Saoirse sobbed. "What should I do, Pol?"

"It's not for me to tell you, love," Polly answered truthfully. "This is something you have to decide for yourself, but remember it affects not just you but Tommy as well. Your decision will affect the rest of your lives as a married couple."

Saoirse nodded and rubbed her eyes wearily. When she had purchased the train ticket, she had been so convinced and certain in her decision, but as the days had passed that certainty had crumbled little by little. She had no idea what she was going to do, but one thing she definitely knew was that she had to decide fast.


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you so much to everyone who has been commenting, following and favouriting- you're all wonderful! This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Shariebery because it's their birthday! Happy Birthday lovely x**

_Six months later_

"I can't cope with this heat any more," Ada grumbled, unbuttoning the front of her blouse to allow some cool air down it.

Not that there was any cool air to be found. Britain was in the midst of a heatwave and there hadn't been a drop of rain in weeks. Glorious sunshine coated the dreary streets of Small Heath bringing smiles to the faces of everyone it touched. It was hard to be unhappy when the weather was so beautiful. Well, at first it had been anyway. But now, after twenty nine days of soaring temperatures the heat had become insufferable. It was hard to go about daily life when your clothes stuck to you and sweat poured from you constantly.

"If you're uncomfortable how do you think poor Saoirse feels?" Polly smirked.

"Poor Saoirse feels like an elephant."

"Morning love," Polly smiled as Saoirse waddled into the room dressed in a thin cotton dress that was stretched tightly over her protruding stomach. "How'd you sleep?"

"About as well as anyone can when they have a small human kicking their bladder all night," Saoirse sat with a sigh of relief.

"I remember those days well," Polly chuckled. "Not long and he or she'll be here keeping you awake with crying and feeding for hours on end without stopping."

"Super," Saoirse said sarcastically, spreading jam on a piece of toast. "You're really selling motherhood, Pol."

The truth was that even without Polly's 'helpful' advice, Saoirse was already dreading being a mother. Almost every day she wondered if she had made the right decision in not going through with the abortion. But then she remembered Polly's words and knew that she couldn't have had it without regretting it for her entire life. It was a strange sort of limbo she had found herself living in over the last six months. One where she wanted to be happy and indulge in the feelings of love and excitement that stirred inside of her whenever she felt the baby move. Then another side of her felt sick at the thought of carrying a baby that she wasn't certain she could ever love or want when she eventually laid eyes upon it.

Tommy, of course was overjoyed, and she couldn't deny that her pregnancy had brought them ever closer than before. The baby wasn't even here yet Tommy couldn't have doted on it anymore than he did already. He did his best to cut back on working late and left it to one of the others so that he could curl up in bed beside her and talk to his child. And it _was_ his child. He had made that perfectly clear to her from the second she had wavered in her ability to follow through with the abortion. He didn't care whose baby it was because in his mind it was his regardless and nothing would ever change that.

Saoirse often found herself feeling such awe that Tommy could feel be so unwavering in his love for their unborn child, given that it might be another man's. After the awe came the guilt that she, the person growing this very child, couldn't even be that sure she loved it. She was going to be a terrible mother, wasn't she?

"Whatever Polly tells you, don't listen," Tommy appeared, interrupting her thoughts.

He bent down to kiss her and she caught the scent of his aftershave and she cupped his newly shaved cheek. She always loved it when he was clean shaven because his skin was so unnaturally soft for a man beneath that prickly hair. His large hand caressed her stomach and he grinned when he was rewarded with a great big kick against his palm.

"I'll have you know I'm a fountain of knowledge," Polly narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Yeah and you're also a scaremonger," Tommy smirked taking the seat beside Saoirse. "I'm not having you filling my wife's head with all sorts of crap."

"I would do no such thing," Polly said curtly. "And there's a difference between scaremongering and informing someone about the reality of the situation they're about to find themselves in."

"What time's your meeting in Liverpool?" Saoirse asked, changing the conversation before something that was lighthearted banter could become a fully blown argument as was common with the Shelbys.

"I'm not going," Tommy answered, lighting up a cigarette and stirring sugar into his dark tea. "Arthur and John are going instead."

"Christ on a bike," Polly rolled her eyes. "Those two couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery let alone anything else. You're going to trust them to secure the deal for Aintree? Honestly?"

"Yep," Tommy nodded calmly. "The meeting can't be rearranged and I'm not going to Liverpool because it's too far to go when Saoirse is due any day."

"Tommy, I told you last night that I would be fine if you went," Saoirse sighed.

"And she will be fine because she'll be here with Ada and I," Polly agreed. "First babies take forever and a day to come, so even if she did go into labour while you were gone, you would be back in plenty of time. And it's not as though you'll be in the room anyway so what does it matter?"

"What does it matter?" Tommy frowned. "I don't want to be up at the other end of the country while my wife is giving birth to our child. I want to be sat right at this table waiting."

"You want to be sat right at this table fretting more like," Polly sighed and shook her head. "And Liverpool is hardly the other end of the country; it's a few hours away in the car at the most."

"Tom, I really think you should go," Saoirse tried, resting her head against his shoulder briefly. "I'll be absolutely fine and like Polly says, if anything happens you can be back in plenty of time. And if you go then there's no chance that Arthur will be able to get himself into trouble, which would ease my mind greatly because I would really like to not have to take my child to visit their uncle in prison if possible."

"She does have a point," Arthur appeared with a grin. "If it was anyone else talking so highly of me I might be offended."

"Ha, you know I mean it with love, Arthur," Saoirse smiled, lifting her face as Arthur planted a kiss on the top of her head.

Tommy stiffened slightly but refrained from saying anything. He trusted Arthur implicitly and knew the affection between him and Saoirse was completely innocent, but it still niggled at him to witness it.

"Where are you going?" he looked up as Saoirse pushed her chair back and stood.

"To make some more toast."

"Sit down and I'll get it," Tommy went to stand up.

"I'm perfectly capable of getting some toast," Saoirse pulled a face at him. "And besides, I can't sit for too long anyway otherwise my legs go numb."

"Well, if you're sure," Tommy frowned, and she could tell he was itching to get her back into her seat.

"Oh for goodness sakes, Tommy," Polly sighed. "She's not a bloody invalid."

"What she said," Saoirse chuckled as she made it over to the other side of the kitchen. "What are you doing today, Ada?"

"Probably spending my money," Tommy muttered.

"I would if I had any," Ada grinned.

"What happened to the money I gave you yesterday?" Tommy narrowed his eyes at her.

"I spent it."

"And what about the money _I_ gave you?" Arthur asked.

"What can I say?" Ada shrugged. "Looking this good doesn't come cheap."

"Tell me about it," Tommy smirked.

"So Tommy boy, what time are we making tracks then?" Arthur swallowed his toast and washed it down with a drink of tea.

"As soon as John gets here I suppose," Tommy decided, realising that he was going to Liverpool whether he liked it or not. "I'll give him another fifteen minutes to get his rabble in order and then you can go and knock for him."

"Want me to pack you up something to eat for the journey?" Polly asked, stubbing out her cigarette.

"Did anyone ever tell you what a Godsend you are, Pol?" Arthur grinned.

"Just make sure you pack Arthur extra so that he doesn't try and eat all of ours too. Last time you made us one of your famous packed lunches, I was lucky to inhale the crumbs at the bottom of the basket," Tommy smirked playfully.

"I'll make plenty don't worry," Polly smiled. "Would hate for poor Thomas to starve on the perilously long drive."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Arthur chortled.

"I don't think so either," Saoirse spoke, turning round to face them with a face as pale as snow. "Because I don't think Tommy's gonna be going to Liverpool after all."

"Oh shit," Polly hissed, when her gaze fell to the puddle of liquid on the floor.

"Is that what I think it is?" Tommy jumped up from his chair and was by Saoirse's side in an instant.

"Either that or she's pissed herself," Arthur muttered.

"I don't think now's the time for jokes, Arthur," Tommy glared at him. "Saoirse, are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," she nodded. "I feel…"

She grimaced as she felt a sharp stabbing pain around her stomach and in her back and she couldn't speak for a moment. It was painful but nowhere near as bad as what she had imagined it would be. If this was how labour was going to go then perhaps it wouldn't be too much of an ordeal. When she repeated this to Polly, the older woman burst out into gentle laughter, promising that this was only the beginning.

….

"Fuck this, I'm not doing it anymore," Saoirse gritted her teeth as another pain overwhelmed her tired body less than two minutes after the last one.

"I'm afraid you've got no choice in the matter, love," Polly smirked as Ada wiped the sweat from Saoirse's forehead.

Sixteen hours. Sixteen long hours and there was still no baby. Arthur and John had been to Liverpool and back and there was still no baby.

Tommy was bedside himself, chain-smoking outside on the landing and wearing a hole in the carpet, while Arthur and John kept him well supplied with cigarettes and whiskey. Every so often he would peek his head round the door only to be shooed out by Polly who was adamant that men were neither needed nor wanted in the birthing room.

"She'll be alright, Tommy," Arthur patted his shoulder as they heard Saoirse crying out again.

"What if she's not?" Tommy couldn't help but think the worst. Women died in childbirth; it was a fact of life, and he prayed with all of his might that his wife wouldn't be one of them. "I should have got a proper midwife here."

"You know as well as I do that Polly may as well be a midwife what with the amount of little ones she's delivered," Arthur smiled, although his own attempt at calmness was feigned. There was no one in the world that understood him the way Saoirse did. She might not be his sister by blood, but she and him shared a bond that went far beyond that, and every noise of pain that escaped the room made Arthur wish he could take it from her instead.

"I know," Tommy nodded shakily. "I just… I can't lose her, Arthur."

"You won't brother," Arthur promised. "You won't."

In the bedroom, Saoirse was done. She couldn't decide what was worse; the pain or the exhaustion. Day had turned into night and she felt like she would never know peace again. If this was what it took to bring a child into the world, she truly wondered why women would put themselves through it over and over again.

"Polly, I can't do it anymore," she groaned.

"You can. You're doing so well, love."

"Ada, don't ever get pregnant," Saoirse writhed in agony. "Become a Nun instead."

"They wouldn't have me now," Ada grinned. "I'm damaged goods."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Polly raised an eyebrow at her niece. "Saoirse, come on you need to give me another push."

"No," she croaked. "I'm too tired."

But even as she said those words, nature took over and she pushed involuntarily, her eyes squeezed shut as she bore down with all her might.

"Good girl," Polly patted her leg. "You're doing so well. Keep going."

From the angle she was stood at, Ada couldn't help but see as the baby's head was birthed and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.

"That's fucking disgusting," she muttered to herself.

"Fuck off, Ada," Saoirse gritted her teeth and carried on pushing with Polly's animated encouragements.

"That's it, that's it, good girl."

Saoirse's head flopped back against the pillow as the baby was finally delivered and she closed her eyes, listening to the high pitched wail that filled the air. Every single part of her body was tired and glistening with sweat and she just wanted to sleep.

"It's a boy," she heard Polly's smile. "And he's beautiful, aren't you little man? Do you want to meet your Mummy?"

Saoirse felt the weight of the wriggling child-_her _wriggling child- on her chest as Polly placed him there, but she found herself unable to open her eyes and look at him or to even put her arms around him. She just couldn't. She was terrified of what she would see staring back at her.

"Saoirse, open your eyes, love," Polly murmured. "Look at your son and see how beautiful he is."

"I don't think I can, Polly," she whispered.

"That's what you said when you were having him and you did that. You can do this." Polly reassured her.

Saoirse did the bravest thing she thought she had ever done in her life and opened her eyes. She felt her bottom lip tremble as a hundred different emotions surged through her. One look at that tiny scrunched up bawling face and she didn't know how she could have ever doubted how much she would have loved him. He was perfect and he was hers.

"Well, there's no denying his father, is there?" Ada grinned, grimacing suddenly when Polly smacked her on the arm. "Sorry Saoirse, I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Saoirse smiled, unable to tear her gaze away from her newborn son. His hair was dark and everything about him screamed Tommy. Full, pouting lips, an adorable button nose and even eyelashes that were so obscenely long that they were almost wasted on a boy.

A tear dripped onto the baby's head and Saoirse wiped it away gently, wondering how it was possible to love someone so much that it physically hurt. Her love for Tommy consumed her but this was an entirely different feeling altogether. This was raw and primal. This was nothing that could ever be explained with words.

"Is he really mine?" she looked up at Polly finally.

"For the rest of your life," Polly smiled, blinking away her own tears. "Ada, go outside and let Tommy know he's got a son. No doubt he'll want to get down the Garrison and wet the baby's head with the boys."

But wetting the baby's head was the last thing Tommy wanted to do. From the second he heard the baby's first cries all he wanted was to see his wife and child and not leave their sides for even a moment. The second Ada opened the door he was in the bedroom, rushing to Saoirse's side.

"I didn't say you could come in yet," Polly tutted. "We've still got to deliver the afterbirth."

Tommy didn't care about the afterbirth or the blood or anything. All he could focus on was his tired looking wife and the baby cradled in her arms.

"We have a son," Saoirse gave him a tired smile. "He looks just like you, Tommy."

When she burst into tears, Tommy kissed her softly. He knew what those tears were for because he could have cried his own for the very same reason. The words he had spoken over the last few months, the promises to love the baby whether it was his or not were words that came from his heart and he had meant every one of them. But nothing had prepared him for seeing his mirror image staring back at him in the form of his son. Knowing without a shadow of a doubt that the child was his was something he hadn't even realised he needed to know.

"Do you want to hold him?" Saoirse asked him.

He nodded, swallowing down the thick lump in his throat as he held his son for the first time. He had held wads of money in his hands; more than most people could ever dream of holding in a lifetime, but this tiny human was more precious than anything a person could buy. Sitting down in the chair beside Saoirse he found himself marvelling at how his life had suddenly changed and how he had wanted to protect and nurture another person so much. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about all those times back in the tunnels. All those times when he had lost friends and comrades and nearly lost his own life. All those times he had wondered what it was all for, but now he knew for certain the reason.

"I love you so much," he blinked, leaning over to kiss Saoirse's head.

"I love you too." Saoirse smiled, stroking the baby's cheek.

Leaning his forehead against hers, Tommy kissed her once more. "I promise you that everything is going to be alright for us from now on."


	19. Chapter 19

Dylan Arthur Shelby had entered the world a little over four weeks ago and already he was beloved by so many, but none so much as by his parents. Neither Saoirse nor Tommy could believe that they had been able to live their lives without knowing how it felt to love someone in the way they loved their son. They were enthralled and entranced by everything he did; every yawn, every burp, every gurgle was the most amazing thing to them both. In just a few weeks he had changed so much and every day he managed to look more and more like his father, if that was even possible. He was going to be a heartbreaker one day, especially with those ice blue orbs that seemed to look into the soul of whomever they stared at.

Tommy opened his eyes as the birds outside began their morning chorus. From the bassinet, the baby shifted about and even though she was half asleep, Saoirse's arm reached over to soothe him before he woke himself up. But Dylan didn't want to settle and instead had decided it was time to get up.

"You go back to sleep, love and I'll get him," Tommy kissed Saoirse's shoulder.

"That's sweet, Tom," she smiled. "But unless you've somehow started producing milk in the last few hours, I don't think you'll be very well received."

"Fair point," he conceded. "I can at least sit up with you though."

"You don't have to do that," she assured him. "You must be tired considering how much he had us awake in the night, and you sat up with me for every feed."

"I did," he nodded, smiling as Saoirse brought Dylan into the bed and began unbuttoning her nightgown.

Dylan, as though sensing he was ever closer to his next meal, began to fuss and whine, turning his head this way and that before suddenly clamping onto Saoirse's nipple when she guided it towards his mouth.

"He's got a voracious appetite, I'll give him that," Tommy smirked.

"Hmm," Saoirse smirked back, grimacing slightly at the discomfort she felt.

Polly was of the opinion that Dylan might be having some sort of growth spurt because he was feeding so often all day and night lately. Last night he had only woken every hour for a feed, but the night before it had been every fifteen minutes and Saoirse was about ready to cry if he had continued in that manner. And Tommy, God love him, was so attentive to her and the baby. If she was up feeding him, Tommy was sat up with her just offering encouragement or helping to keep her awake. She tried repeatedly to tell him that he needed his sleep because he was working every day and that it wasn't fair on him, but all he would do was kiss softly and remind her that they were a team and that he would rather be awake with her and Dylan whenever he had the chance.

"Did I tell you what happened to Ada yesterday?" Saoirse spoke.

"You told me she had an argument with Laura Meadows about who had picked up the last piece of green yarn first on the market stall," he answered, lighting up a cigarette.

"Oh so I didn't tell you the other thing?" Saoirse's eyes twinkled mischievously. "So, I went for a bath and Ada offered to watch Dylan for me. Anyway, Polly had gone to the shops and I had just finished washing my hair when I heard Ada screaming, and honestly I thought she was being murdered the way she was going on. So, I came running down as quickly as I could and when I got into the living room, Ada was screeching her head off and when I eventually got her to calm down, I realised that she had been changing Dylan napkin and he peed right in her mouth."

Tommy burst out into peals of laughter that actually made his sides aches. Saoirse giggled with him until she was red in the face.

"Oh, I'd have paid good money to see that," Tommy chuckled, running a hand across Dylan's soft head as he fell back asleep against his mother. "Who'd have thought someone so little could create so much chaos, eh?"

"Hmm," Saoirse smiled as Tommy's other hand caressed her face. His finger trailed across her lips and she pretended to bite him. "I love you."

"And I love you," he leaned forward to kiss her. "I love you both of you. I didn't realise what my life was missing until both of you were in it."

"You're such an old softie really, aren't you," Saoirse murmured against his mouth.

"Old?" Tommy pretended to frown.

"I still love you though," she winked playfully. "Let me put him down and then I can kiss you properly."

"Pass him to me and then you can kiss me properly, because otherwise if my hands are empty there's no way I'll be able to keep them off of you."

Tommy extinguished his cigarette and scooped Dylan up gently before Saoirse could even answer. He lay down slightly and rested his small son against his bare chest, right on top of his heart, before pulling Saoirse into to his side and wrapping his arm around us.

"Only a few more weeks and then you can have your wicked way with me again," Saoirse joked.

"It's a few weeks too many," Tommy sighed, but truthfully he didn't mind. Their relationship was more than that.

Saoirse, God love her, had offered to give him some release over the past few weeks but in a true exercise of restraint he had somehow resisted. He would hold out until she was healed and ready then he would worship every inch of her in praise of the child she had given him.

"I wish we could stay like this forever sometimes," Saoirse sighed contentedly. "Just me, you and Dylan; living in this little bubble where nothing can ever hurt us."

"Nothing can hurt us regardless of where we are," Tommy kissed her head. "I would never let anything or anyone hurt either of you. I'd die before that happened."

"I know," Saoirse nodded. "But I can't help but just think that I don't deserve to be this happy. There's part of me that always thinks something terrible will happen because it's just not in my destiny for everything to be alright."

"You've been through a lot, Saoirse," Tommy's arm around her squeezed gently. "You're bound to feel this way. But I promise you that there is nothing for you to worry about. Things are going great with business and the only thing I want you to be concerned about is looking after Dylan and looking after yourself."

"And looking after you," she smiled, kissing her chest and then Dylan's soft head.

"And looking after me," Tommy agreed.

….

"We should really get up," Saoirse mumbled.

The two of them must have drifted off again and Saoirse knew that as much as they wanted to, they couldn't laze the day away.

"Hmm," Tommy grunted, making no effort whatsoever to move.

He was comfortable and relaxed with not even the slightest bit of tension in any part of his body. He relished this feeling; wished he could bottle it and carry it with him everywhere.

"Tommy," Saoirse's fingers danced across his ribs making him let out a short laugh. "Come on lazy bones."

"Just a few more minutes," Tommy muttered. "Weren't you the one who said they wanted to live in this little bubble forever? And now you're desperate to escape."

"Yes but that was before I realised just how starving hungry I was," Saoirse admitted, her stomach choosing that exact moment to gurgle loudly as though proving the point.

"Well, I shouldn't like for you to waste away," Tommy sighed, sitting up and keeping a sleeping Dylan held tightly against his chest. "Let's get dressed and go down. If we're lucky there might still be something to eat for breakfast, and if not I'll rustle something up."

"Tommy Shelby offering to cook," Saoirse pulled a face at him. "Wonders will never cease."

"Do you hear this, _chavo?" _Tommy smiled down at his son. "Mummy's being mean to me. I don't think we can stand for that, can we?"

Dylan wriggled and did nothing more than let out a very loud gust of wind from his rear. Tommy pulled a face of mock disgust and realised that if Dylan was anything like he had been, he would most definitely be a mummy's boy, and therefore would always take Saoirse's side in everything. Not that Tommy minded really.

"You'll survive," Saoirse grinned, buttoning up the green dress she had slipped over her head before gathering up her auburn curls into a bun.

Her hair was finally growing out now and she loved being able to tie it up and keep it out of the way. She took the baby off of Tommy so he could get dressed and smiled when he opened his eyes and stared right at her.

"Hello beautiful boy," she cooed in a sing song voice. "Who's my best friend? You are, that's right. You're so handsome, aren't you? Oh my god Tommy, look! He's smiling. Tommy he's smiling."

Tommy was by her side in no time, his hands fastening his tie as he looked on eagerly.

"You missed it," Saoirse sighed. "I promise you he smiled."

"I believe you," he reassured her. "He's a clever boy, aren't you?"

This time, Tommy himself witnessed the little smile that spread across Dylan's face and he felt his own mouth curve upwards into a beaming grin.

"Polly'll probably say it's wind," Tommy said, stroking Dylan's chubby cheek. "But what does she know, eh?"

As if he understood exactly what was being said, Dylan broke out into another huge grin and sent his parents all cuckoo again.

Tommy's elated eyes met his wife's and he understood the subtle look she gave him. Things really had changed for the better.

….

"Tommy, don't let him get too close in case it bites him."

"He won't bite, will you boy?" Tommy crooned, rubbing the stallion's nose affectionately as he Dylan in his other arm.

At five weeks old, Tommy had decided that it was high time he brought the baby to Charlie's Yard to meet some of the four legged residents. Curly was beside himself with excitement but refrained from holding Dylan in case he dropped him on his head.

"You don't know that," Saoirse chewed her lip nervously. "I think I'd prefer if you brought Dylan away from the horse. He's too little to be near it; there could be an accident."

"Saoirse, I was riding horses before I could even walk," Tommy smiled at her. "He's a Shelby. Horses are in his blood and the sooner he gets used to them, the less nervous he'll ever be around them."

"Hmm," Saoirse made an unconvinced noise.

"Thought I heard my favourite nephew," Arthur appeared in the stable door with a grin.

"What about my two boys?" John scowled beside him.

"What about them? I love them and everything, but this little monster here is my best friend aren't you?" Arthur smirked, striding over to Tommy and taking Dylan out of his arms and completely ignoring the glare his brother gave him. "Tell your Dad to stop looking at me like that otherwise if the wind changes his face will be stuck like that."

Dylan gurgled in his Arthur's arms, his pudgy fist clenching tightly around his uncle's little finger.

"Well, he is a lot better behaved than mine, I'll give you that," John grinned. "And he's certainly a lot quieter."

"Not when he's screaming the house down in the middle of the night for food he's not," Arthur chuckled. "But we don't mind, do we? No, of course not because you're a handsome little chappy."

"Arthur, haven't you got actual work to be doing?" Tommy eyed him drolly. "Instead you're pissing around here, fawning over my son like some love sick puppy."

"Just came to ask Curly's help with something," Arthur explained, his eyes never leaving Dylan's face as he rocked him slightly from side to side. "But I couldn't resist the chance to see my favourite human when I heard Saoirse flapping about him being near the horse, could I?"

"See even Arthur thinks you were unnecessarily worrying," Tommy gave her a triumphant look.

"He didn't say that, Tommy," she pulled a face at him. "And I don't care if I am worrying unnecessarily. I'm a mum; it's my job."

"And you're a good mum," Arthur smiled at her. "He's lucky to have you."

"You know Arthur, sometimes I really think I married the wrong brother," Saoirse teased, taking Dylan from him when he started to fuss.

"Right, Arthur, John, go and get on with whatever it is you're meant to be doing," Tommy said abruptly. "Saoirse, stop flirting with Arthur and pass me the baby. I'm going for a little ride and he's coming with me."

"Over my dead body he is," Saoirse was horrified at the idea.

"That can be arranged," Tommy winked playfully.

With a sigh of resignation, she knew she wasn't going to win this argument.

….

The heat of the last few months had finally abated, leaving a pleasant warmth in its wake. Saoirse and Ada had enjoyed a stroll around the shops and when they got back to Watery Lane, Dylan was fast asleep in his pram.

"You're just in time for some lunch," Polly smiled, peeping her head out of the back door. "Is the little man asleep?"

"Yeah," Saoirse nodded, pulling up the pram hood to keep the sun off of her sleeping infant. "I'm going to leave him out here to enjoy the fresh air."

"We'll hear him if he starts crying," Polly smiled. "Just shut that back gate properly, Ada."

"Already done," Ada grinned, peering at Dylan with a fond smile as she walked past. "He's the spit of Tommy isn't he?"

"Absolutely," Saoirse agreed. "Although when he frowns he does occasionally look like my Dad."

"Do you feel sad that your parents aren't around to see him?" Ada asked. "I know that when I have kids one day it will hurt not having my mum here. Couldn't give a shit about my Dad but Mum; now she would have been an amazing Grandmother."

"From what Tommy's said of her I would agree. My parents would have doted on him too; my Dad especially. My mum was soft and sweet, but my Dad was even worse. As a child he could never discipline me; he used to let me get away with murder, and my mum would do all the telling off. They always wanted more kids but it just didn't happen for them."

"They're watching down on you and the little man," Polly said knowingly. "They all are. Now sit your bums down and let's eat before we all start crying."

Saoirse checked on Dylan after they had eaten and he was still fast asleep, gripping his blanketed teddy bear for dear life and pursing his lips just like his father. She, Ada and Polly decided to play a game of rummy to pass the time until he awoke.

They were so engrossed in the game that they didn't hear the back gate creak open as John stepped through it. It was only when he walked in through the back door that they realised they had company.

"You're back early," Polly commented. "Thought you had that meeting at the Garrison with Tommy and Arthur?"

"Yeah I do," John nodded, cramming a sandwich into his mouth. "But Arthur forgot the papers so I've come back to get them and thought I'd grab something to eat while I'm here."

"Well, if you go and find the papers, I'll make you a sandwich," Polly suggested.

"You're a legend, Polly, eh?" John grinned, wriggling the toothpick in his mouth with his tongue.

"Was Dylan still asleep when you came past?" Saoirse asked.

"I didn't see him," John frowned.

"Oh, he's asleep in the pram," Saoirse explained. "I thought you might have popped your head in when you walked past, but not to worry. I'll go and check that he's alright; he should be getting hungry soon."

"He's not in the pram," John frowned. "I _did_ stick my head in but the pram was empty."

"What?" Saoirse stood abruptly, feeling like her heart had sunk to her toes.

She was out of the back door in a flash, followed closely on her heels by Polly, Ada and John. Saoirse wasn't aware of them though; all she could focus on was the fact that her son was gone. He was gone. Somebody screamed. Her? The sound was like an animal who had been wounded; it was raw.

She fell to her knees, clutching the tiny blue blanket teddy bear that was the only thing left behind of Dylan. Completely unaware of the panicked shouts and chaos going on around her, she brought the teddy to her nose with a shaking hand and breathed in that newborn scent of her beautiful boy.

She looked up when a gentle hand touched her shoulder and her face crumbled when she saw Tommy stood there. She didn't even know how much time had passed. All she knew was that she didn't have her little boy.

"He's gone," she croaked pitifully. "He's gone, Tommy."


	20. Chapter 20

**So this is the final chapter of Tommy and Saoirse's story, and I want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has read and left comments on this. You honestly have no idea how much it has meant to me x **

Three hours. Dylan had been gone for three hours. It felt like an eternity. Tommy had sent every trusted man out to search for him, but Polly had been adamant that he remain at the house with Saoirse. She needed him; she was a mess, and despite his initial protestations, he reluctantly agreed.

"This is all my fault," Saoirse muttered over and over again, clutching that teddy for dear life. She was terrified to let it go. It was as though letting the bear out of her hands meant that she would lose all hope of ever getting her baby back.

Tommy knelt down in front of her and took her hand, kissing it reverently.

"Nothing about this is your fault," he promised her, clenching back his own tears, wishing to be out with the rest of the Blinders looking for Dylan. He felt useless just sat there, waiting and doing nothing. "Plenty of women leave babies outside in the pram. My mum used to leave us outside in the fresh air all the time."

"I'm not talking about that," she whispered as a tear fell upon their joined hands. "It's my fault because I didn't want him when I first found out I was pregnant. He's punishing me; God or whoever it is up there. He's punishing me for all those times I thought about wanting to get rid of my baby. He's doing this to me because He knows I don't deserve Dylan and I don't deserve to be happy."

"Saoirse," Tommy shook his head. "Love, that's not true."

"It is," she sobbed. "It's all my fault and I don't know how I'm supposed to live the rest of my life without him, Tommy."

"Ssh, don't speak like that," Tommy cupped her cheek, brushing away her tears with his thumb. "He's not gone forever. We're going to get him back and you're going to see that none of this is your fault nor are you being punished for anything, because you've done nothing wrong."

Bursting into painful sobs once again, Saoirse threw her arms around Tommy and let everything out. She couldn't be strong. She was a crumbling mess and she just needed him to make it better. Tommy always knew how to make things better.

"It's alright, love. It's alright," Tommy wrapped his arms around her and pressed gentle kisses to her head. "We'll get him back, I promise."

"And if we don't?"

Tommy had no answers for that question. In fact, he refused to acknowledge it. They _would_ get Dylan back come hell or high water.

…..

Night fell and rain set in for the first time in weeks, clearing the last of the humid air. Tommy was restless and was making phone call after phone call to try and see if anyone had any news about his missing son. But every call ended with the same despair that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Saoirse hadn't moved from the armchair, where she had been watching out of the window but not really seeing. Perhaps if she sat there long enough this nightmare would be over and Dylan would be safe and sound in her arms once again.

"Saoirse!" Arthur came bounding into the living room as fast as his legs could carry him. "You need to come quick."

"Have you found him? Have you got him?"

"No," he answered truthfully, guilt clouding his eyes. "I'm sorry. But listen, there's someone on the phone for you and I really think you need to take the call."

"I don't want to," she shook her head, painful disappointment seeping through her veins. "I don't want to talk to anyone; I just want Dylan."

"I know you do, sweetheart," Arthur squeezed her shoulder gently. "Which is why you need to take this call."

A feeling of dread, even greater than the one she already bore, settled upon her chest making it difficult to breathe as she headed into the den to use the phone. Tommy looked at her with such anger and she couldn't tell if it was directed at her or someone else.

"Tommy?" she frowned.

"Just take the call," Arthur prompted gently.

"Hello?" she said into the receiver hesitantly.

"Saoirse," the voice spoke; the one that had haunted her dreams for months. The one that had given more agony than she ever thought was possible until now.

"Joe," she whispered, closing her eyes in pain at having to mention his name out loud let alone speak to him.

But then she heard it. That soft whine in the background that made her full breasts begin to leak with milk that was supposed to feed her child.

"Please don't hurt him," she begged, tears pouring freely. "Just give him back to me."

From her peripheral vision, she could see Polly murmuring soothingly to Tommy who looked about ready to kill someone with his bare hands. She turned away quickly because otherwise she wouldn't be able to carry on.

"He's fine," Joe said almost kindly. "He's clean and fed and warm. I'm not a complete monster, you know. You do know that, right?"

"Yes," she muttered. She didn't care that every fibre of being screamed liar. She would say whatever it took to keep him on the phone and make sure Dylan was safe and well.

"You can have your son back," he said suddenly. "But you must do exactly as I say."

"I will," she nodded fervently, even though he couldn't see her. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"There's an abandoned warehouse on the other side of the city on the corner of Barham Street and Ascot Road. You will come there alone in an hour and I will give you back your son. But if you do not come alone, I will know. Trust me, I will know. I see everything, Saoirse; just like I've seen the happy little life you've been trying to live without me. If anyone else comes, your son is dead."

The phone line cut out and Saoirse dropped the receiver in her hands.

"What did he say?" Tommy was beside her in an instant. "What did that fucker say? Where's our fucking son."

"He's safe," she croaked. "I know where he is and I can get him."

"Right, let's go then," Tommy demanded.

"I have to go alone."

"Not a fucking chance," Tommy let out a short laugh. "There is no way in hell that I will let you go anywhere near that monster alone."

"I have to, Tommy," she sniffed.

"It's not happening."

"Tommy, please," she pleaded.

"I said fucking no," he roared, flinging everything angrily from the desk in front of him.

Saoirse broke down into tears and clutched onto Arthur for dear life as Tommy continued to smash up everything in his path. When his angry haze finally faded, he glanced at the destruction he had caused and felt nothing.

"I'm going, Tommy," Saoirse cleared her throat. "And you won't stop me."

"I'm coming with you."

"No," Saoirse reached forward and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "You can't. Listen to me, Tommy. If you or anyone else comes with me, he'll kill Dylan. I won't let him do that."

"And what if he kills you?"

"That's a risk I'm more than ready to take," she answered.

"I'm not," Tommy murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. "I can't lose you."

"You won't," she promised, wrapping her arms around him. "But I have to get our boy, Tommy."

"I know," he whispered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I know."

…..

The warehouse was exactly where she had been told. Arthur and Tommy had dropped her off about a ten minute walk away, and it had taken Arthur almost forcibly restraining Tommy to stop

him from going with his wife. Arthur wasn't happy about leaving her to face Joe alone, but he understood that this was the only way.

The rain had become a light drizzle but Saoirse welcome the way it soaked through her clothes. It reminded her that she needed to keep her wits about her. Each step she took closer towards the warehouse felt heavier than the last until she almost couldn't go any further. But go further she did because all she could think about was her son. She pushed open the door and was assaulted by a surprising amount of warmth and the faint light of a lantern. Her heart pounded wildly and she swallowed, unable to think of anything other than the feel of Joe's hands around her throat and his fingers against her skin.

Dylan, she reminded herself. This was for her Dylan and she would face Joe a hundred times again if it meant getting her son back.

"So you came then."

She turned at the sound of his voice and forced herself to meet his eyes. They weren't angry like she had expected; instead they were soft and warm like the Joe she had first met. No. He wasn't anything like the Joe she had first met. He was a monster and she should have expected he would try and lull her into a false sense of security with a kind smile, but it wouldn't last.

"Where's my son?" she asked, standing upright. She would not cower down to him again. Never again.

"He's fine, I told you," Joe smiled.

"I want him; give him to me," she demanded.

"In due course," Joe smiled that sickly sweet smile again. "Come and sit down. Let's talk and catch up first, eh?"

"Catch up?" she scoffed. "You must be out of your mind if you think I'm going to sit here and play all happy with you. I came here for my son and you will give him to me now."

"My my," Joe smirked. "Sweet little Saoirse has finally grown a backbone. I wonder if you're actually as brave as you really think you are."

His hand reached out and wrapped itself gently around her throat, squeezing slightly as if testing her for a reaction. Defying every instinct that she had to scream and cry and beg him not to hurt her, she stood as still as a statue and let her eyes stare into his with no reaction. It seemed she had done the right thing because Joe dropped his hand and grinned.

"He's over here," he nodded to another room behind them.

She followed him without a second thought and when she saw a little crate stuffed with blankets, she ran to it, bursting into tears of relief when she saw those sweet little pouting lips and that button nose.

"Dylan," she whispered, scooping him up into her arms and breathing in his comforting baby scent. "Oh my sweet boy, I'm so sorry my darling."

"I told you he was fine," Joe said. "I would never hurt a wean."

"You said you would never hurt me but you did," she hissed.

"That was… unfortunate," he sighed. "You can't honestly blame me for the way I behaved back then. I had my suspicions that Tommy Shelby was going to try and get his claws into you from the second you took that job and I was right, eh? He turned your head with these fancy ideas but he doesn't love you like I do. No one could love you like I do."

"You don't know the meaning of love," she spat, her bottom lip wobbling. "The things you did to me… you're worse than a monster. You're evil."

"I'll let that slide because you're emotional about having your boy back," Joe narrowed his eyes and she saw a tiny glimpse of his real persona in them. "But you have to understand that I didn't want to do those things, Saoirse. I just couldn't help it. When I saw his hands and his mouth on you, I was enraged. He was touching what belonged to me and I couldn't have that."

"I didn't belong to you!" she shouted angrily. "I'm not something to be owned, I'm a person."

"That's where you're wrong, Saoirse," he said sadly, lifting his hand to trace his fingers down the scar upon her face. "This means you belong to me."

"No," she shook her head.

"Yes, Saoirse. You belong to me and you always will."

Saoirse closed her eyes as bile rose in her throat when her mind flashed back to that night. He was trying to get inside her head. He was trying to manipulate her just like he had done so many times during their relationship.

"He looks like his father, doesn't he?" he said suddenly, his breath warm upon her cheek.

She opened her eyes to find him stroking Dylan's head gently and she wanted to scream at him. She wanted to tear off his hand so he could never touch her son again. But she didn't. She just watched him like one watches a predator, trying to suss out its next move in the hopes of surviving. She _would _survive him. She had done it once and she would do it again.

"I think I will be able to overlook that in time."

"What do you mean?" she eyed him warily.

"Put the baby down and we'll talk."

"No," she shook her head firmly. "He stays right here with me."

"And I'm saying that you'll put him down and we'll talk," Joe's nostrils flared ever so slightly.

"I said no," she gritted her teeth.

Joe let out a sigh and she could see the inner turmoil he had to refrain from losing his temper. It was palpable. The palm of his hand met with her face before she could even begin to process the movement, and Joe took the opportunity to snatch Dylan from her grasp.

"I didn't want to do that, Saoirse," he shook his head sadly, moving back when she reached her arms out for the baby. "But hopefully now you'll listen to me, eh?"

"Alright," she agreed.

Her eyes didn't leave Joe's broad form for even a moment as he lay Dylan gently in his make shift crib, smiling fondly when the little boy pouted his lips and let out a sigh of contentment. That was the only thing about this situation that Saoirse could find a positive in. Dylan was unharmed and clearly unaffected by the ordeal, and if she had her way he would remain so. When Joe stood back up and turned to face her, she forced herself to look him in the eye.

"I've really missed you," he murmured, cupping her face and running his thumb across her bottom lip. "I've missed everything about you, and I know you think you're in love with Thomas fucking Shelby but you're not. He's brainwashed you into thinking that he's saved you, but really he's just imprisoned you in the same way that you accused me of doing."

"You raped me," she spat. "And you beat me. You sliced open my cheek with a fucking knife."

"I've already explained to you why I did those things."

"And that makes it alright? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to carry on living after what you did to me? If it wasn't for Tommy, I would have ended my life just so I didn't have to feel the pain you inflicted on me for the rest of my life."

"What do you want me to say, Saoirse?" Joe huffed. "That I'm sorry and that I wish I could take it back? Because you know what? I don't. I'm glad I did it. I'm glad that I made you hurt because _I_ hurt. I did nothing but love you and you repaid me by kissing another man, but it's possible for us to start again and get past this."

"You what?" she scoffed.

"Let's leave this shitty place and start again, far away," he whispered excitedly, grabbing her face with both hands now; his eyes wide with excitement. "Me, you and the baby. I'll be a good Dad to him, I promise you that. I'll love him like my own."

"He doesn't need you; he's already got a Dad who adores him," she snarled. "And you're truly deranged if you think I would go anywhere with you and most certainly not with my child."

"You don't mean that, Saoirse," Joe closed his eyes in pain. "We can be a real family, the three of us. And if we can't be together in this life then we will in the next."

"What are you talking about?" Saoirse felt her stomach drop suddenly.

"This whole place is covered in petrol," he grinned menacingly, pulling a packet of matches out of his trouser pocket. "I was willing to give you a chance, Saoirse but you've ruined it for yourself and for us. I promise though that wherever we end up after this, I'll look after the two of you."

"Joe, please," she sobbed, trying to wrestle the packet from him. He snatched them away easily but she didn't give up. "I didn't mean it, ok. I do want you. I do want us to be together but I'm just scared of what Tommy will do. Please, please don't this, I'm begging you."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not," she shook her head, desperately clutching at his cheeks in an attempt to force him to believe her. "Joe, I love you. I've never stopped loving you. Please, put the matches away and don't do this. Put them away and I promise you that me and Dylan will go anywhere you want. Please."

Joe's eyes bored into her and his jaw clenched as he thought about it. Saoirse tried to smile reassuringly and rubbed her thumbs across his cheeks. Anything to try and make him believe what she was saying. She almost fell to her knees with relief when he slipped the box back into his pocket and smiled at her.

"I knew you still loved me," he murmured, bending down to kiss her.

Saoirse wanted to bite him, kick, slap, anything to get him off of her, but the soft cooing noises of Dylan coming from behind Joe made her go along with this disgusting pretence. Just a little while longer. She could do it.

She wound her trembling arms around his neck and his lips moved to kiss her neck at the same time as his hands brushed against her breasts. She closed her eyes and knew it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the small kitchen knife out of her sleeve and plunged it into Joe's neck before she lost her nerve. And again. And again.

He fell to his knees, dragging her down with him as his hands grasped at her throat; squeezing until she couldn't breathe. She gasped for air like a fish out of water and stars began to swim around her peripheral vision as his hands continued to crush the life out of her. She could hear Dylan start to cry and she reached her hand out towards the little crate, trying with all her might to reach him. Everything was going black and she knew she wasn't going to make it.

But no sooner had that torturous thought crossed her mind did those hands loosen and she felt Joe's dead weight upon her body. She pushed him off of her and just stared at his corpse lying on the dirty ground. She had killed him. She had killed a man. Remorse was not something she felt though. Instead all she felt was relief. He could never hurt her again.

Scrambling up to her feet, she gathered Dylan up to her chest, tears of relief and adrenaline dripping onto his soft head. Then she ran. She ran as fast her legs could carry her.

…..

"Saoirse!" Tommy was out of the car and down the road the second he saw her in the rearview mirror.

She was covered in blood and he had never felt such terror in all his life; not even the night he had found her in the flat after Joe had assaulted her.

"It's not mine, it's not mine," she sobbed as she all but knocked him over in her haste to get to him. "It's not mine, Tommy."

"Dylan?". Oh God, please let Dylan be alright.

"Dylan's fine," Saoirse promised, shifting the blanket around the baby so Tommy could see that his son was completely unharmed. "I'm fine. We're both fine. He's not going to hurt us again, Tommy. I couldn't let him hurt us again."

"Saoirse what have you done?" Tommy breathed, cupping her face, still unable to believe she was alive and uninjured, standing in front of him like a vision.

"He's dead," she croaked. "I killed him."

"It's alright. It's alright. Arthur'll go to the warehouse and get rid of the body," Tommy spoke to himself more than to her, before turning his attention back to his amazingly strong wife. "I thought I was going to lose you."

"I told you you wouldn't," she whispered, pressing her cheek to his. "You're never going to lose either of us. I love you, Tommy and I want to enjoy the rest of our lives now without worrying about the past. The past is over for good and our future is all I care about."

"The future," Tommy let out a shaky breath, his hands stroking his son's fluffy hair as his wobbling lip's met Saoirse's.

The future was theirs and they were going to grasp it with both hands.

…..

_Five years later_

"He's been! He's been!"

Tommy cracked open an eye at the sound of thundering footsteps bouncing down the hallway. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and groaned when he saw it was only five in the morning.

"You can't be grumpy on Christmas morning, Tommy," Saoirse smirked knowingly as she opened her own eyes.

Tommy was prevented from replying when two very excited children burst in through the door with stockings in their hands and jumped on the bed giddily.

"Mummy! Daddy! He's been!" Dylan squealed. "Father Christmas has been! Can I open my presents?

"Can I open my pwesents, Mumma?" Niamh asked. Two years younger than her brother and aged only three, she had the most adorable little lisp when she spoke and idolised the ground Dylan walked on. This of course meant copying everything he said and did.

"You can both open your stockings and then wait for me and Mum to come downstairs to open the rest," Tommy answered. "Why don't you go in your bedroom and open the stockings while we get dressed."

The children were out of the room in a flash and Tommy grinned, snaking an arm around Saoirse's waist.

"Next year there'll be three of them to contend with," he rubbed the slight swell of Saoirse's stomach. "God help us, eh?"

"Well it was your bright idea," she grinned at him, placing her hand over his. "I was happy with two."

"Yeah but I can't help that you make such beautiful babies," Tommy smirked, leaning up to kiss her as his hand wandered and slid beneath her nightgown. "Now, I think we've got precisely eight minutes until they're back in here, midering us to get downstairs and open the presents."

"Hmm and what are you thinking we should do with those eight minutes, Mr Shelby?"

His only answer was to roll on top of her and slide himself inside her with a groan.

"I was thinking this might be an acceptable use of our time," he smiled; biting at her bottom lip as he moved slowly inside her.

"Agreed," she hissed clutching the sheets as his thumb rubbed at her clit.

They both knew there was no time for slow right now. They were on a time limit and every second counted, and Tommy made sure to use every single available second to bring Saoirse to the edge again and again. With a grunt he spilled himself inside of her and collapsed on top of her, careful not to let his weight rest on her too heavily and kissed her slowly.

And like clockwork the children appeared, eagerly chatting about what Santa had left in their stockings and what else might be waiting for them. Saoirse sat up and made a great show of interest in answering their giddy chatter.

Lying back in bed for a moment, Tommy watched his little family and smiled to himself. Whoever would have thought a woman could have come into his life looking for a job and caused him such grief and also brought him the most immense joy he had ever known.

His life was better with her in it and every day with her was a new chance to be a better person: a better father and a better husband. Every day was a new beginning for the rest of their lives.


End file.
